Hammer of Terrascars
by Servant of GOD
Summary: A soldier tortured by a past he cannot face. Three lords challenged by a future they cannot embrace. Elibe will never again be the same place. Complete with epilogue.
1. Prologue

_Author's Corner:_

_This is my first attempt at crafting a tolerable fanfiction of some quality, so bear with me if anything seems a little off. I originally thought of an idea to draft some sort of fiction depicting the tactician's method of deploying soldiers into battle. To me, it was rather odd for a tactician to tell his troops, "Use your sword against the ax-wielding bandit because of your advantage in the weapon's triangle and dodge his counter attack."_

_I'm not certain if this fiction will contain romance or not. If the reader is kind enough to review this piece of drabble, feel free to suggest something. I'll also be tweaking the storyline of Fire Emblem a bit, to create a few more plot twists. Please don't sue me if I changed a detail that you are rather particular about._

_And finally, for the record and sparing myself of repeating this every chapter, I do not own Fire Emblem or any of the characters in it._

**Hammer of Terrascars – Prologue**

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"Reform the line," a man muttered softly, "This rabble will be cleared soon."

"At once, General," an aide-de-camp replied, turning on his heel after a brief salute to relay his superior's orders.

The said general sneered in disgust at the slaughter that lay before his eyes. It had taken nearly half a year for his division to track down these measly insurgents, who had fled recklessly across the Etrurian border in hopes of surviving the wrath of the Magic General. The heretics and rebels, proclaiming themselves the Terrascars, had declared the current Etrurian government to be 'incompetent' and 'unfaithful' to the needs of the people and rallied all who wished to establish a new order. Needless to say, the aristocrats in power weren't particularly peachy about this and sent an army to quash the revolution.

"Of all the blasted war hosts and regiments in Etruria," the general grumbled, "They had to send us, the Silver Vanguard who have never lost a battle, to do their dirty work. We could be actually testing out our mettle against a halfway decent opponent near the Caledonian Isles instead of wasting our time with peasants who can't even hold a sword correctly in their hands."

Half a year, half a stinking year the army had spent hacking their way through pathetic traps and ambushes supposedly in place to stall pursuers. The only minor technicality was that the ambushes were composed of idealistic young men with no weapons training whatsoever. Naturally, it took less time to butcher their sad resistance than it took to organize the ambush.

The soldier jumped as the bushes rustled behind him. With a swift metallic scrap, his naked sword sprang free of the encumbering sheath before he realized who he had just drawn his weapon on. His petrified aide was quaking in his shoes before him, though trying to keep a brave face on despite the blade held one inch from his rapidly paling face.

"This had better be good," the officer growled, "You know not to jump me like that. I had thought one of those adolescent idiots had actually succeeded in breaching our encircling ring for an assassination attempt."

The aide licked his dry lips before managing a reply, "M, my apologies, s-sir!"

The general waved his hands at the apology, "Report."

"As you suspected, beyond the forest where the Terrascars have built their fort, lies an encampment of Sacaen nomads. It is not yet determined whether the nomads will be aiding the Terrascars if the rebels are attacked."

The general grunted, "Unfortunately for us, Sacaen nomads are quite fierce in a fight, and could deter us from finishing our task at hand. They are also quite honorable, and the Lorca Chief will not sit around while those poor Terrascar bastards are being attacked. What must be done must be done for the better of Etruria."

"B-but, using bandits, sir? Surely some of our own forces could be sent to parley with them and prevent them coming to the aid of the…"

Further speech was curtailed by a glare from the general, who merely asked, "Did you succeed in sending the gifts to the nomads? That is all I require."

Gulping nervously, his aide stammered back the reply, "Y-yes, s-sir. T-the Lorca didn't suspect anything from our disguised caravan train. I chanced to overhear that what we presented was to be the special on the menu tonight."

Smiling grimly, the general turned to survey the lands before him, turning his back on the trembling aide, "Those poor fools, completely unsuspecting that we just sealed their doom. As planned, the poison within will immobilize their strength just enough so that even untrained bandits will finish the job. Meanwhile, our full force currently surrounding the Terrascar fort will move in and demolish the building, leaving no one alive. Fulfill your duty, corporal, and let me do mine."

Seeing that further argument was useless, the aide saluted and walked off into the gloom to relay his orders. The attack would begin at midnight.

Without even a whisper of a warning, the bandits came upon the unsuspecting tribesmen. Caught in the open and weakened from the treacherous poison, the Lorca were completely surprised and unable to defend themselves from the onslaught. Maddened by bloodlust and greed, the savages slew all they could find, down to the last innocent woman and child. Those who could find the strength fled from the ambush, shattered by their experience and knowing that their tribe was doomed.

One, however, fled astride a horse weeping only for her slain parents. Proud daughter of a chief, she would've stayed with her courageous father to the end given the chance. Fate intervened, and the young girl named Lyn would escape the fate of her clan.

Hearing the screams of the betrayed nomads, the general gave the order to attack. Though he commanded a war host of a thousand men, only three hundred would actually participate in the finishing struggle. The remainder would be watching that none escaped from the purge.

Drawing his own sword, the youthful commander led his men straight towards the compound. To maximize stealth and silence, the entire attacking squad was stripped of the heavy plate mail customary of knights and lance-wielding pike men. Equipped with only light chain mail and their weapons, the force stole across the thick undergrowth before arriving at the hastily built Terrascar fort. Only three dozing guards stood between them and the gate.

At a swift hand signal, three javelins split the night air. Aimed with skill and care, all three struck their targets, though not yielding the same effect. Two of the guards expired wordlessly with only a small sigh of surprise. The third, however, was only struck in the thigh. Coming awake instantly, the hapless guard screamed at the top of his lungs.

"ATTACK! WE'RE BEING ATTACKED! BAR THE G—"

A sword stroke quickly finished the task that the javelin failed to. Despite this, the element of surprise had been lost and the defenders were rallying. Cursing, the general pondered his possible actions. Several of his men were trying to bash down the gate, but the inhabitants inside had already barricaded the door in a futile attempt to keep the invaders outside.

"Damn, General!" one of the soldiers spat out, "We can't break through this door without some serious siege equipment, and we don't have in this entire army!"

Silence.

"General? Are you alright?"

Silence.

"General?"

"Burn it."

"Yes sir… WHAT?"

"I said burn it, raze it to the ground."

The man paused for a second, and then grinned wildly, "Ah, I get it! They're trapped inside, if we set fire to this wooden fort, they'll be forced to come outside!"

"Correct, now get to your task."

Seized with the enthusiasm of completing their mission and returning home after half a year's campaign, the men eagerly set flint to the tinder and flung several dozen flaming torches onto the compound. Smiling smugly, they awaited the besieged to evacuate and surrender.

"Wouldn't it be great if those idiots burned to death in there?" one mocked.

"Hah, would save us the time of hauling their stinking carcasses back to Etruria!"

"Nah, maybe I could procure one as a slave, those sell for quite a bit around these parts."

As if some cruel demon of destruction had heard these mocking words, the impossible came true. Already weakened from the fragilely built compound and the raging fire, the roof came crashing down as the entire fort folded in upon itself. Truly ensnared within their own flaming fort, the damned could do nothing but howl in agony as the merciless inferno scorched them to crisp. The soldiers, as if immune to the pleas of the trapped, continued to crow at the plight of the rebels.

Save one. One sword plummeted to the soft earth from numb fingers, as a pair of eyes almost willed the nightmare to remove itself from his gaze. Stumbling away from the wretched building, the tortured soul discarded first his weapons then his armor and fled from the disgrace he had just participated in. In his horror-filled mind, a soft but determined vow swore he'd never subjugate the innocent to such barbarity ever again…

_The prologue is now complete, please review if you wish._


	2. Tactician, Of Some Sorts

_Author's Corner:_

_Disclaimer was mentioned in previous chapter, and I don't like to repeat myself too much. Though I did forget to mention that I changed the name of the tactician… senses he will be boo-ed offstage_

_I'd like to thank all who reviewed, your comments all help me to build a better story._

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 1**

**Tactician, Of Some Sorts**

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_March 17th, 6 months after I left the army,_

_Another quiet day spent wandering the borders of Etruria. Now that I've deserted the only profession I ever knew, life is becoming a puzzle to me. In the past, orders dictated my life: protect your country and your country will feed you, clothe you, and provide you with a purpose in life. Now, I can only find odd bits and pieces of work. Occasionally helping a needy farmer for a small price, working at the odd inn, even becoming a one-time schoolteacher. Heh, if someone told me half a year ago that I'd be doing any of the above, I'd of called them a lunatic. Oh, the ironies of fate…_

A young man in his mid-twenties sighed as he closed his journal. Clad in a ragged green cloak, he paused to survey his surroundings. Replacing his journal in a weather beaten bag by his side, he gazed wistfully at the painting that hung on the wall to his left. Everywhere around him, patrons of various classes were lounging about with their mugs of beer and ale, some choosing to gamble at cards while others preferred simply to chat about the day's coming and goings. Nursing his own cup of ale, he stiffened as he heard the distinctive clatter of weapons upon armor.

_Sometimes, I love being a deserter wanted by the army_, he thought while rising, _Better get out of here in a hurry before some ambitious cadet hauls me before the tribuna_l.

"Hey, bartender! Three mugs of beer for me and my mates!"

"Sure, just sit yourselves at the counter."

The young man visibly relaxed as the bartender produced the wanted alcohol and set it before the soldiers. _Maybe the fates decided to be kind to me after all_, he thought to himself, _with any luck, I could actually live out the rest of my days in peace, preferably somewhere other than Etruria_. But fate is usually quite cruel in deluding its victims into a sense of false security before dashing their dreams in a heartbeat.

"You hear about the recent killings?" One of the soldiers muttered to another.

"The ones concerning the what, Silver Vanguard was it?"

"Aye, that's the corps. Someone or another is systematically eradicating a certain portion of their command."

The young man froze behind them and tried to inch closer to the quiet discussion.

"Whoever it is, they're not killing indiscriminately, I heard from captain that only the ones that participated in the Terrascar purge are being hunted down."

"Any clue who might've done it?"

One of the soldiers grunted, "Who knows? High command thinks that some Terrascar scum must have survived the slaughter and is out for vengeance."

"Black Fang," said a new voice from the corner.

"Wha-?" Everyone listening turned around, only to find an old merchant sipping his mug of ale.

"Black Fang I said," the old man continued drunkenly, "They be a group of assassins from Bern, but only kill those who abuse or oppress the people. The soldiers that burned them poor Terrascar fools are feeling the heat themselves."

"What could a band of fighters from Bern be doing all the way over here in Etruria?" Wondered the bartender.

"There are no boundaries for the Fang," muttered the old merchant, rolling his eyes, "They can be in Bern today, then appear in Lycia in a twinkling of an eye. Those who practice evil do well to fear the wrath of the Fang."

"In that case, I pity that one deserter," one of the soldiers said laughingly, "Rumor has it that he's the only survivor of all those who participated in the Terrascar purging. All his mates are dead and buried, the most recent only a couple of days ago."

Fighting down the bile from rising in his throat, the young man could feel fear sliding like a dagger down his back. He was the only one left, and still sitting his lazy rear in Etruria almost asking to be split in two by would-be assassins! _Nice going, Drake_, he said to himself, _You spent 6 months stuck in Etruria and haven't heard head or tails of these deaths until you're next_.

Reaching into his trouser pockets, Drake withdrew two of his last coins and left them on the counter. Throwing his bag over the shoulder, Drake quickly exited the establishment, hoping no one would remark on the suddenness of his departure.

"Wonder what was his hurry, he didn't even finish his drink," remarked one of the soldiers.

"Heh, more for us!"

"Perhaps, perhaps," said the old merchant as he stared at the retreating figure.

Panting for breath, Drake arrived near the outskirts of the Sacaen plains. All that separated him from Etruria was a small patch of forest directly behind him. Hopefully he had left any pursuers far behind him, assuming they had even located him in the first place.

"First time in my wanderings that I'll be heading into Sacae," he murmured out loud, "Saint Elimine, I must be crazy. That Black Fang tale was probably just a coincidence with the rumor the soldiers were spreading. I'd be a fool to believe their conversation over a drink."

"You'd be more of a fool if you didn't believe it, young man."

Shuddering slightly, Drake turned slowly around to see who had managed to ambush him without any warning. Since his life as a soldier, very few could surprise him even while he was spacing out, and this was near the edge of the plains for crying out loud.

"Now, now, don't leave your back too long towards an elder. Sign of disrespect, you know."

Sighing dismally, Drake turned completely around to face his ambusher.

It was the old merchant from the bar.

"Somehow I am not entirely surprised that you are the one sent to finish me," Drake said calmly.

"Really, and why is that?"

"This far away from Bern, even a merchant would hear but scant tales of the Black Fang. I'd wager that your comment about the Black Fang was merely a ploy to root out the only person in Etruria who would actually tremble at your story. All you have to do is enter all social gatherings and throw out a line to see which fish would pale at the sight of a hook. And that would be me."

"That's a wager you'd win, young one, but regrettably, you are about to die," replied the patient hunter, who knew his prey was already ensnared in the net.

"I doubt that, what prevents me from fleeing from your attack?"

"Easy. THIS!"

Before the second word had left his lips, the apparently aged merchant flung a cleverly concealed dagger towards Drake's face. Expecting some sort of surprise attack, Drake twisted sideways to avoid the flying projectile. Unfortunately, the diversion had already accomplished its purpose, as a second dagger flung by the assassin embedded itself within his left thigh. _So much for escaping_, Drake thought, _But I'll settle for getting out of this alive_.

"A futile attempt as always. Why not just submit and die peacefully? The gods know that the lives you have already taken are waiting above for you demise."

"Most likely," Drake grunted with exertion, "However, I think my time hasn't come yet."

"I sincerely doubt that," replied the assassin as he raised a third and final dagger for the finishing blow, "Is there any reason why you shouldn't die here?"

"Of course," came the answer, "Your knife helps."

Seizing the knife in his thigh, Drake wrenched out the weapon and stabbed the surprised assassin deep in the stomach. Caught unawares, the would-be killer could only watch as his lifeblood spilled onto the grass below. Snarling, he plunged the dagger downwards, hoping to score the kill and finish his mission. Regrettably, his strength waned and he only managed to gore the shoulder of his target. Screaming with rage, the assassin crumbled, never to rise again.

With shaking hands, Drake managed to draw out the blade in his shoulder. Heaving himself to his feet, he limped away from the scene of combat; trying desperately to stay conscious after the amount of blood he lost before a second wave of assassins found him. Stumbling slightly over a hill, he lost his balance and collapsed near the base of the rise. His last vision was a pair of brown boots before darkness enveloped him.

The next time Drake opened his eyes, what greeted him was some sort of roof fashioned from furs. Frowning slightly, he tried to debate whether he was currently residing in heaven or hell. Since heaven tends to have clouds overhead and hell likes to be decorated with a flaming interior, Drake concluded that he must be, strangely, alive and in someone's house. Further thoughts were forestalled as a young woman with green hair opened the tent flap and entered.

"Are you awake now?"

Instead of answering the question, Drake merely tried to raise himself from the bed, which rather indirectly answered the inquiry.

"I found you unconscious on the plains."

Trying to fight down the rising headache, Drake had little time to comprehend whatever the heck she was saying, but managed a quick, "Whoareyou?"

"I'm Lyn, of the Lorca tribe. You're…"

Whatever she said after that wasn't important, as the occupant of the bed froze at the mention of her tribe. _Lorca, but I could have sworn we…_

"There were survivors?" he all but blurted out, then hastily covered his mouth at his blunder.

Lyn narrowed her eyes suspiciously, as there weren't very many foreigners that knew of the Lorca's demise. "Who are you? Do you remember your name?" In truth, she wanted to shake him until he told her what he knew, but that will have to wait.

Sweating profusely, Drake stammered, "I, uh, name, yes… I'm Drake, Drake from Etruria."

"So your name is Drake? And might I ask you what you're doing in Sacae? Perhaps you can tell me what you know about the Lorca as well?" She said as she leaned closer, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

_Greaaaaat_, Drake cringed, _Why did I have to say that? Think! Use that infernal head of yours and talk your way out of this before she pulls out a sword and manually extracts the information!_

Luckily for him, a horn sounded outside that distracted Lyn from her questioning. Being foreign to Sacae's customs, Drake did not sense anything amiss, but one look at Lyn's face told him that the horn meant trouble.

"I'll go see what's happening. Drake, wait here; we're not done with this conversation."

As Lyn exited via the tent flap, Drake flopped himself back onto the bed trying to come up with some lame lie to cover his costly blunder. Yet no matter how hard he tried, his mind drifted towards the horn that called Lyn away from her interrogation. His wondering would soon be answered, as Lyn appeared once again through the tent flap.

"As I suspected, bandits wishing to plunder the local villages. I'll be able to take care of them myself, assuming they don't have any other scum lurking around," Lyn said through gritted teeth. _What befell my family shall not touch another innocent soul while I can do anything about it_, she silently vowed.

"Ah, perhaps I can be of some assistance then."

"You can help me, Drake? Are you proficient with a weapon?"

Drake winced at that. _Better not let her know I'm an ex-soldier who had a hand in her tribe's downfall now, should I_? At least he had some other skills to offer besides his sword arm.

"I am a tactician, of some sorts. I plot battles rather than actually waging them."

Lyn bit her lip as she considered his proposition. _I don't exactly know enough about him, but there is a chance that there are more brigands out there than I've seen. After all, I could use someone with tactical advice if the situation gets out of hand_.

"Very well, we go together."

Though she had accepted his proposal of teaming up, Lyn's eyes clearly showed that she didn't trust him completely. Nevertheless, the two of them left the tent to survey the situation before them.

"It appears that there are only two of them, I'll be more than a match for them," Lyn said after checking there were no other bandits located in their immediate vicinity.

"Still, discretion is the better part of valor, perhaps we should divert their attention first. A surprised enemy is much easier to…"

"I'll be alright, Drake, don't worry too much about me. I'm sure my skills will be enough to overcome any untrained ax men," Lyn interrupted, hurrying off to combat the closer bandit before Drake could finish his comment. All Drake could do was sigh and shake his head, though he'd find a way to help Lyn in his own way.

Lyn dispatched the first bandit without much difficulty, as the corpse behind her could attest to. Pausing only to pour a vulnerary over the cut she had suffered on her right arm, Lyn pushed on to challenge the bandit that was guarding the hut.

"You are quite brave and foolish to challenge me, little girl. I am Batta the Beast!" The ax man roared at the sight of Lyn approaching.

"You're going to be Batta the Dead if you keep talking like that," replied Lyn completely unfazed by the brigand's challenge.

Roaring with rage, the man sprang forward like a wounded tiger eager to swat aside its prey. Drawing her blade with a practiced fluidity, Lyn scored two quick slashes upon the bandit's arm before backing away. Leering at the young woman before him, Batta sprung again and aimed a furious downward slash at the spot Lyn was standing.

Lyn sidestepped and scoffed at the bandit's pathetic attempt to counter, "If that's the best you can do you better… Uh…"

Although Batta had missed his initial slice, the force he struck the ground with allowed him to carry his ax upward for a horizontal bash into Lyn's waist. Although it was only with the flat of ax, Lyn collapsed with the wind knocked out of her, leaving her vulnerable for the bandit to finish her off.

"Not so confident now, are we girl?" The bandit mocked as he raised his ax for the final blow.

Lyn panted as she tried to steel herself for another attack. Thanks to Batta's attack, her hands refused to close around the sword hilt and her legs felt like hot butter. _I'm going to need a little bit of time to get my wind back_, she winced, _Time which I don't have. Mother, Father, it looks like I'll be joining you quite soon. Perhaps I should've listened to what Drake had to say before charging off_.

Batta hefted his ax lightly before striking, "Now prepare to die… The hell?"

Smoke suddenly appeared from his hut behind him, enveloping him in their choking cloud. Gasping and wheezing, the angry bandit swatted at the offending disturbance. _I could've sworn I had put out all the embers from the fire_, he wondered, _so where the hell did this smoke come from_?

Lyn was just as surprised as her opponent, trying to figure out where this temporary reprieve came from. That is, her surprise lasted until Drake's voice behind her instructed her softly in an amused tone.

"A surprised enemy is much easier to defeat, Lyn, I'd advise attacking now."

Struggling, Lyn surged to her feet and readied her sword in a fighter's stance. Though her aim still wavered a bit, she realized there was little chance to miss. Batta was waving his arms in a furious attempt to fan away the smoke clouding his vision, and in that sense, painting a bright target sign where he was standing. Taking a deep breath, Lyn charged and stabbed her blade forward into the center of where Batta was struggling.

A surprised gasp, and two bodies pitched forward. Batta fell with a look of complete surprise frozen on his face, while Lyn fell to one knee shaking with exhaustion. The battle was over.

The next dawn found Drake dressed and prepared to leave. _The long I stay in one place_, he mused, _the sooner the Fang will catch up with me_. If he left quickly, perhaps they would lose the trail and, hopefully but unlikely, give up the chase. Drake was interrupted as Lyn opened the tent flap and came outside.

"Good morning, Lyn," Drake greeted, though he remained with his back to her.

"Good morning, Drake," she began, then faltered, "I've been meaning to ask you something, but never got around to doing so."

"Hm? Speak, and let's see if I hold the answer to your question."

"You have some experience in war, so could I travel with you?"

At that Drake turned around. Surely he didn't hear what he thought he had just heard? _That would be madness_, he thought, _I pretty much have a group of assassins after my head, and traveling with an innocent bystander would get her embroiled in that hunt_.

"I've only heard from a drunk Sacaen that the Lorca were attacked half a year ago," he lied, "Surely there is someone you can return to instead of coming with me?"

Lyn looked up, though her eyes seemed distant, "When the bandits attacked, my father, the chieftain, was slain. So many of our tribe were slaughtered that we were scattered to the four winds, probably never to unite again, at least under a young girl like myself. I'm alone with no kin of my own now."

Drake nodded sympathetically, though inwardly he cringed. _War is folly_, he thought despairingly, _one act of warfare can shatter so many lives. I was one of those who had brought her misfortune, thus I should at least try to replace the happiness she lost at my hands_.

Lyn tried to dry the tears falling from her eyes, "I'm sorry, I've just been alone for so long and…" _I had no one to talk to_, "I need to become stronger, strong enough so that I can protect myself and those with me. Strong enough even to avenge my father."

Drake gently tilted her head back and dried her tears before looking into her eyes. Lyn stared back with a pair of determined orbs that seemed to pierce Drake with their brilliance. They were eyes that promised that the soul encased inside would not break under any trial. Satisfied, Drake made his decision.

"Then you have yourself a traveling partner, milady."

_That is all for now, please review if you have the time to spare. Comments, suggestions, heck, even flames are fine_.


	3. Of Bulgar and Bandits

_Author's Corner:_

_I humbly thank all who reviewed, and deeply apologize for my lack of updates for the past week or so. I have been busy trying to construct a departure from The Scouring, and school has also been a factor. Constructive criticism is always appreciated and I'd especially like to thank TealTerror for spending valuable time and effort to find and point out any errors/problematic areas._

_I also received many reviews stating that they were rather particular to the name of the tactician. Here is a little spoiler and something to think about: Would a deserter use his real name while on the run? Find out what this means later on…_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 2 **

**Of Bulgar and Bandits**

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_March 23rd, 6 days after I met Lyn_

_Nearly a week has passed since I have accepted Lyn as a traveling companion, and still I gripe at the possibility of dragging her into a mess beyond her comprehension. By Saint Elimine, I am a deserter on the run with a trained group of assassins hounding me across Elibe! What possible benefit could she derive from traveling with me? Perhaps I should just tell her the truth and separate our paths forever… Oh wait, she was already suspicious of my involvement with the Lorca earlier, and the truth might not be accepted in the most promising manner. What am I going to do?_

"Drake? What are you doing over there?" Lyn asked.

"N-nothing," he replied, fumbling to stuff his journal back into his knapsack. _If she actually reads what I have written, I can pretty much sign my own death warrant_.

Lyn's puzzled glance clearly showed her disbelief, but to the relief of her tactician, she let the matter slide.

"At any rate, we have arrived at Bulgar," she stated calmly, "We'll be stopping here for supplies and perhaps a night of rest."

"As you wish," Drake replied softly as he gazed upon the walls that surrounded the city. _Bulgar_, he thought, _Last time I was here was on an expedition to Ilia to assist in a joint operation with the mercenaries up there_. _I never understood the need to build high stonewalls in the middle of the plains_, _but that's just my opinion_. _Maybe the bandits here are more problematic than I remembered_.

As the pair passed along the crowded streets filled with vendors, Drake couldn't help but notice the variety of goods available in the market. Granted, Bulgar was the central commercial lane that connected Etruria, Bern, and Sacae, but the extravagance was still quite overwhelming. Though Sacaens were renowned for their frugality and tendencies towards nature, Bulgar boasted of splendid furs from Ilia, magnificent armor from Bern, and of course, the famous Etrurian wine, cultivated from the finest wineries Elibe had to offer.

_Currently being enjoyed by innumerous people from different countries_, he observed as both Lyn and he could hear the rowdy taverns serving their patrons. _I suppose any man becomes the same vile, uncivilized pig after stinting himself in liquor_, Lyn fumed as she listened to the drunken calls to passing barmaids, _why they must waste their lives away doing such things is beyond belief_. _I wonder if Drake is like that as well_?

"Say, Lyn, take a look at…"

"Oh my heart, what a dazzling vision of loveliness."

Compliments were readily accepted in Sacaen culture, but flattery bordering on mockery was potentially dangerous to the uncouth tongue. Nomads were famous for brutally punishing insincere hearts. Lyn's eyebrow twitched as she turned around, prepared to give a scathing rebuke to Drake's words. _This had better be good_, she sighed exasperatedly, only to find Drake admiring the fine points of an iron scimitar with a blacksmith. Sensing someone's eyes on him, Drake turned around and blinked at Lyn.

"Yes? What is it?" he asked, and then stared at her, "What? What's with the look?"

"Did you just…" Lyn started, evidently bewildered, and taking her hand off the sword by her side.

"Wait, could you please favor me with your name? Or better yet, your company?"

Both of them blinked at that, realizing that a third party was the cause of their confusion. As one, Lyn and Drake turned their heads to find a brown-haired cavalier dressed in green armor bowing in Lyn's direction. Out of pure shock, Drake could only gape at the appearance of the cavalier. _What the bloody hell is wrong with me these days? How can someone sneak up on me time and time again without me noticing any more?_

Lyn, however, kept her composure, "And who are you, sir knight, who so freely converses with strangers in a foreign land?"

The cavalier's eyes seemed to sparkle with joy as he made another elaborate bow, "Fair damsel, I thought you would never ask. I am from Lycia, hailing from Caelin, famous for its knights of passion and fire."

If at all possible, Drake's eyes widened even further. _Is this guy for real_?_ What sort of buffoon accosts random people on the streets_? Adding a mental note, Drake reminded himself not to visit Caelin any time soon.

The same thought seemed to reverberate through Lyn's mind as she brushed off the Caelin knight, "Shouldn't it be more appropriate to say 'infamous for its callow oafs with loose tongues?'"

The knight clasped his hands before his bosom as he gushed, "Ah, you're even lovelier when you're cruel."

At this point, Drake politely coughed and turned around to cover his face. Truth be told, he was trying not to crack up in laughter at the poor fellow's imminent demise. Lyn's eyes flashed dangerously before settling her hands upon the sword at her side, and in actuality, Drake wouldn't have minded if she split the offending cavalier in two.

"Sain, you idiot!"

"Ouch!"

Another cavalier had appeared, garbed in a similar fashion to the first one, albeit clad in red. Applying his armored glove in a quick smack to his companion's head, the new arrival bowed in apology.

"Please excuse my friend here. It is a shame that he takes these flirtations more seriously than his duties as a knight."

"I accept your apology. You at least seem honorable enough," Lyn replied evenly.

The red knight was about to speak again when he stopped and looked Lyn up and down. _She looks so familiar somehow_, he thought, _where in the name of the gods have I seen her before_?

Unaware that he was staring, the knight murmured, "Have we met somewhere before?"

Lyn raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Whoa, Kent, but I believe I have dibs on her!" Sain quipped from behind.

Her confused state evaporating before a cloud of anger, Lyn's hand strayed once more to the sword at her side. Noticing the death glare coming from his traveling companion, Drake decided to intervene.

"Are there no decent men amongst Lycian knights?" Lyn began, drawing her sword two inches from the sheath before Drake's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"I sort of understand what you are feeling," Drake whispered, "But cutting people into pieces in the middle of a crowded street over a few impolite words would be slightly unseemly."

"You're right, of course. Come, Drake, I've run out of patience with these…"

Muttering some unintelligible word, Lyn proceeded to drag Drake out of Bulgar.

Snapping out of his reverie, Kent managed to stammer out, "Wait, it's not like…"

Obviously the pair halfway down the street did not hear heads or tails of that.

Slapping an armored hand to his forehead in frustration, Kent groaned, "Sain, can't you just keep your damnable flirtations in check until AFTER we finish our task?"

"Eh? But, I thought you were…?"

"I am NOT you! I suspect that she is actually the person we were sent to find. Now mount and follow them."

Ignoring his friend's skeptical glance, Kent swung himself into the saddle and dug his spurs into the steed's flanks. With a neigh of discomfort, the horse stormed after the fleeting pair in the distance.

Beyond the gates of the city, Lyn was still muttering incoherently. Straining his hearing, Drake could scarcely make out what she was saying. However, that could be dealt with later, as other matters more important needed his immediate attention.

"Uh, Lyn, I know you're not in a good mood right now, but could you please desist from pulling me around by the neck?"

That stopped her dead in her tracks, "What?"

"You do realize that you've been literally hauling me by the collar through the streets of Bulgar right?"

Lyn's sheepish look clearly testified that she, indeed, had not realized that. Removing her hand from the back of Drake's collar, Lyn looked down in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, just what they said was really getting on my nerves and… Drake?"

Drake motioned for her silence, then pointed towards the patch of trees to their right. Cocking her ears, Lyn could faintly make out the rustling of dry leaves and dead twigs. _If they were normal travelers_, he mouthed, _they wouldn't keep to the trees without showing themselves_. _It'd be safe to assume they're hostiles, and stupid ones at that._

Sure enough, several bandits appeared through the undergrowth. Realizing their cover was blown from their target's abrupt halt along the path, they emerged and surrounded their prey. Lyn fingered her sword hilt nervously as she counted the foes around them. _Four_, she mentally cursed; _four bandits are too much for me to handle alone_. _I wonder what provoked them to come after us_?

The lead bandit whistled, "You have looks that would fetch me a good price at the slave auction, wench. Pity someone paid me more to kill you. You are Lyndis, are you not?"

Lyn started at his words. _How does he know that name_, she wondered, _only those of the Lorca knew that_!

"Who are you? And how do you know my name?"

"I am Zugu, and I don't need to waste my breath with those about to die!"

"I beg to differ."

The bandits turned at the voice of another party. Galloping into the clearing were the two knights that Lyn and Drake had spoken with earlier in Bulgar. Brandishing a lance, Sain warded off an approaching bandit while Kent halted before Zugu with a sword in hand.

"My apologies for the misunderstanding in Bulgar, my lady," Kent began, "Sain and I would like to explain our purpose in length to you at a more appropriate time. But I believe we should attend to the brigands first?"

The said bandits were fidgeting nervously. Zugu had easily persuaded them to come and pick on a lone girl for a hefty sum, but adding two knights to the fray was another story altogether. The money was alluring, but what was the point of gold if you weren't alive to spend it? _I'm not sticking my neck out for him to get rich_, they thought as one, _better get out while the going's still good_. Without another word, they bolted away from the clearing, hoping to distance themselves as much as possible before any pursuit.

"Argh, you cowards!" Zugu roared, "Wait, don't kill me! I may have information you need." _There goes any hope of support, but I can still pull this off if I can lure them off guard_. He inched forward two steps towards Lyn.

"Speak," Lyn replied, relaxing now that the danger was largely dissipated. _Perhaps I can figure out who wanted me dead so desperately that they hired bandits_.

"Well, this man from Lycia hired me to do the job. I hate picking on women," Zugu lied, "But he paid me good money to finish the job, so I accepted his offer," he moved forward another two steps, "To come and kill you."

"Who was he?" Lyn asked, while Drake whispered something to Kent, who nodded in acceptance.

"He was…" Zugu stopped, as if trying to recollect while stealthily drawing his ax from behind his back, "DIE!" he roared as he swung his ax forward.

Unfortunately, his attempt was futile. Blocking the ax with his own sword, Kent signaled to Sain, who stabbed the treacherous bandit in the back with a lance. Lyn hardly seemed surprised, as if suspecting the attack all along. This was a bandit she was dealing with, after all. Turning her head towards the knights, she calmly asked, "So what was it that you two wished to speak with me about?"

"We ventured to Sacae in search of someone under orders," Sain explained, "Our lord, the marquis of Caelin, sent us to meet with his daughter, who had eloped with a nomad some 19 years ago. His daughter's name was Madelyn."

"Madelyn…" Lyn repeated softly, her eyes suddenly moistening.

"The marquis was furious of course," Kent picked up, "He declared that he had no daughter after the incident, heartbroken at her departure."

"Heartbroken, until he received a letter from Lady Madelyn this year saying that she was living comfortably in Sacae with her husband and daughter of 18 years. She also added that their daughter's name was Lyndis, after her own deceased mother and the wife of the marquis."

"But then," Lyn stammered, "The bandits…"

"Yes," Sain replied sadly, "We learned in Bulgar that their tribe was shattered several days after the letter was sent by bandits. The marquis had always wished to see his daughter's family one more time, and thus sent us on a mission to fetch the family back to Caelin. We also learned in Bulgar that you, Lady Lyndis, had survived. So, as to honor our lord's command, we had hoped to bring you back to Caelin."

"As luck would have it," Kent added, "Your image is almost the exact replica of your late mother's portrait hanging in the castle's hallways. I managed to identify you based on that."

"Lyndis," Lyn murmured, her eyes seemed to look beyond the horizon, "I never thought someone would call me by that again. Only my parents called me that in private. To the rest of the tribe, I was always Lyn."

"In that case, we would have a problem," Drake commented. The other three jumped, so engrossed in their conversation that they had forgotten his presence. He had remained silent throughout their explanations, focusing on soaking up as much information as possible. Noticing their blank looks, Drake explained dryly, "You do recall that the bandit referred to you as Lyndis, correct? And how would he know that name again?"

"Lundgren," Sain muttered.

"And who is that?" Lyn and Drake asked simultaneously.

"Your grandfather's brother," Kent explained, gritting his teeth, "While Lady Madelyn was presumed to be gone forever, the heir to Caelin's rule would fall naturally to Lord Lundgren. Now that Lady Madelyn has reappeared and presented an heir, that would make you, Lady Lyndis, the next in line for Caelin's stewardship. In a nutshell…"

"You are an obstacle for his ambitions," Drake finished softly. He held up a hand to ward off Lyn's protests, "Whether you care for Caelin's throne or not, he will see you as a threat and do his utmost to remove you."

"Seeing what happened here," Kent grimaced, "I'd be forced to agree."

"Likewise," Sain replied.

"Then what should I do?" Lyn asked, looking at Drake, "Wherever I go, he will send assassins after me."

"Some say that the best defense is a good offense," he answered, "You can kill two birds with one stone by doing what he dreads the most: head towards Caelin. There you can meet your grandfather, and deal with this threat once and for all."

The four travelers departed Bulgar together after their run-in with the bandits, stopping only to make a detour that Lyn insisted upon. Traveling the beaten path, they found themselves before an old temple upon the outskirts of the city. Inside, the chanting prayers of monks accompanied the soft smell of burning incense.

"It is a custom for Sacaens who set out on a distant journey to pray here for luck," Lyn explained, "This may be the last time I visit here in a while."

"That'd be fine," Kent replied, "We'll wait out here for you."

Lyn excused herself before starting into the temple, leaving her new companions to pour over a map and decide upon the best route to Caelin. Approaching the altar, she knelt and offered a prayer imploring the gods to watch over all of them during this adventure. Veiled by the burning incense, Lyn didn't notice the commotion starting outside.

While Sain was tethering the horses, Kent and Drake were deciding the ideal approach to Caelin. Kent suggested that they retrace their steps and follow the path Sain and himself had taken on the way to Sacae, but Drake pointed out that this would be the most heavily guarded path. As they were conversing, another group of travelers approached the temple. This group, however, was notably different in that the majority of them were quite drunk. The leader, a roguish young man, was sober but held a naked blade in his grasp. Without a word, he took one of his followers and entered the temple.

Drake took one glance, rolled up the map, and turned back to Kent, "We have company, though I sincerely doubt Lundgren would be foolish enough to hire idiotic knaves to do his bidding."

"Two of them have already entered, should we go after them?" Kent asked.

"Lyn is a competent enough swordswoman that she can handle them without us," Drake replied, "But I do believe we should make sure that, ah, no reinforcements interfere with her?"

"I was hoping you'd say that," called out Sain as he headed towards the ruffians near the temple gate. Drake and Kent looked at one another before slapping themselves in the forehead.

Inside the temple, Lyn became increasingly aware of a large pair of boots thumping noisily across the stone floor. Impatient at the disturbance, she tried to block out the offending noise and finish her prayer. The priest, however dismayed, moved forward to greet the next worshipper. The said 'worshipper' shoved the priest roughly aside while adding, "Geezer, stay over there and be quiet."

Picking himself up with a great dignity, the priest moved in front of the altar, "It matters not what you say to me, my son, but the divine sword stays on this altar."

"Sure it will," the young man scoffed, pushing the priest aside once more, "I am Glass, the greatest swordsman on the plains! If there is anyone worthy of this sword, it should be me!" Glass laid his hand upon the pommel and eagerly drew the blade. It refused to budge.

"How dare you," a low voice muttered behind him. As Glass turned, a stinging slap was applied to his cheek and he staggered away from the sword. Clearing his vision, Glass saw that the impudent person was merely a girl!

"Out of my way, wench," he growled, "Lest I be tempted to butcher you."

"I will not," Lyn replied, "Filth such as you shall not defile the sacred sword."

"Then you will move, in pieces!" Glass roared as he charged, swinging his sword at Lyn.

Lyn backed away from the downward stroke, though inwardly she had to give this man credit. She had made the miscalculation of not drawing her sword beforehand, and now his aggression was keeping her from bring her own weapon into play. Unarmed, she could only back up until she stood almost upon the pedestal of the altar. Without thinking, Lyn yanked the sword out of its sheath and turned to face her opponent, only to have everyone gape in wonder at her.

"I never though I'd live to see the wielder of the Mani Katti in my life," the priest murmured incredulously.

"Bah," Glass grumbled, "I can't draw it, so she can? Heh, I'll just kill her and take the sword from her dead hands."

Glass and Lyn swung nearly at the same time. Their two swords clanged against one another, though with varying effect. The Mani Katti, living up to its reputation, suffered nary a scratch, while Glass' worn out iron sword shattered at the impact. Reeling from the impact, Glass could only step back, gazing at the remains of his sword.

"C-Carl," he whimpered to his crony, who was also quaking in his shoes, "Go get the others and beat the living daylights out of her."

Carl was only too happy to comply, as long as he got away from that terrible sword. So intent was he upon leaving that he failed to notice a booted leg extend itself from behind a pillar. Tumbling head over heels, he halted unceremoniously after his head painfully thudded against the wall.

"Your, ah, buddies are not in any condition to help you in any way. I'm afraid they suddenly had the gall to pick a fight with two knights, and are still sleeping off the resulting headaches."

"Drake!" Lyn exclaimed happily, ignoring the fact that Glass took this opportunity to hightail out of the premises.

Outside, Kent and Sain were none worse for the wear, except Sain was sporting a small bruise on his temple that he tried to hide with his headband. Kent sighed disapprovingly before chiding the miscreant, "You could have just scared them off with a weapon, Sain, and there was no need to actually brawl it out."

"Ah, but what feat is there to boast about to our lovely lady if we knights only use intimidation?" Sain responded cheekily.

"You're incorrigible," Kent despaired, "I just hope Lady Lyndis and Drake can put up with you…"

"Speaking of them," Sain interjected, "There they are!"

Lyn seemed to be in a small daze, clutching the Mani Katti in her right hand, "I can scarcely believe this. The Mani Katti, surely the most famous sword in Sacae, in my hands right now."

Kent shook his head again, "Many epics or sagas tell of similar occurrences, where a legendary weapon waits for its proper owner to come. Such weapons choose their owners, and the Mani Katti chose Lady Lyndis.

"A blade without equal, huh?" Sain admired, "Score! Lundgren would never stand against it."

"B-but," Lyn stuttered, her cheeks turning slightly red, "I'm nothing special…"

"Certain weapons just fit your hand better, right?" Kent supplied, "I'm sure the Mani Katti feels perfect in your hand, making you its designated owner. To that extent, I doubt any of us will be able to wield it either."

"A blade that no one else can wield," Lyn murmured as she gazed upon the sword.

A cough, and all three of them jumped again. Drake raised an eyebrow in annoyance as the three apparently forgot his presence again. _I suppose it is my fault for being so quiet while things are being discussed_.

"At any rate, our path has not changed in the slightest," Drake went on, "I believe our destination was Caelin?"

"Yes, Caelin," Lyn replied firmly, "Where my grandfather is."

"To Caelin!" chorused Sain, "Where lovely maidens dwell and heroic knights fight for all that is good and jus…"

"Sain!"

_Well, there's another chapter done. Read and review please! They make my life a whole lot easier!_


	4. Mercenaries and Vassals

_Author's Corner:_

_Another day dawns, another chapter begins. I'd once again like to thank all who reviewed, especially Tetra-Slash, whose insight has been invaluable. I did notice that I tend to waver between viewpoints (after I read the same blinking chapter like 3 times over), and will attempt to change that as soon as possible. I'm flattered by all your compliments and hope this fanfic will actually live up to all of your kind words._

_Belay the talk, on with the show!_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 3 **

**Mercenaries and Vassals**

_March 25th, 2 days after meeting the Caelin knights,_

_I daresay that I'd never have imagined myself in this predicament before. First, I'm a target of assassins, and second, my traveling companion is also a target of a different set of killers. Great, as if I didn't have enough problems of my own to worry about, now I have to deal with the hassles of others as well. Gods, I know you can hear me! Give me back my peaceful life, damn it! Feh, I am not worthy of knowing peace, not until I have paid for my sins in blood. Though I would rest easier should I restore to Lyn what I took away months ago…_

"Would you take a look at that?" Sain inquired.

Peering from over Sain's shoulder, Drake shifted uncomfortably behind the saddle while closing his journal.

"Appears to be smoke," Kent replied rather calmly.

"An unnatural amount" Lyn remarked, "A normal campfire doesn't emit so many funnels of flame, and there certainly couldn't be a forest fire due to the lack of people in this area."

"Let's go take a look," Drake suggested, "It's only over the next couple of hills anyways."

Urging their steeds to a slow trot, the two knights and their passengers ascended the rise to feast their eyes upon what lay below. What greeted their eyes was a village razed to the ground, with only the flickering embers from the dying flames giving off the pale wisps floating into the air. Once tall and sturdy houses lay in ruins, only black pillars to testify where they once stood. The surrounding village wall was burned to the ground, leaving the entire area naked before their eyes.

The sight invoked different thoughts from the viewers. Kent and Sain, aghast at the scene before them, were struck dumb at the sheer audacity of such an act long considered impossible in Lycia. Lyn, born in Sacae and daughter of a proud race, was no stranger to pillage of such sort. Despite her calm composure, her eyes reflected the dying flames as her mind replayed the night that her clan was scattered. Yet all of these proved minor compared to Drake's reaction. Standing as if stricken by the sight, Drake could only recall a time not so long ago, when a fierce flame that he had helped to ignite charred innocent victims to ashes. Overwhelmed by the memory, he covered his face was his arm, as if willing the abomination before him to disappear. The others, caught up in their own thoughts, didn't notice his rapidly paling face as he staggered backwards.

It was only when Drake fell on his rump did the soft sound shake the others from their reverie. Turning around, they saw Drake with his face buried behind his hands. Mistaking his reaction for sorrow, Lyn went over to comfort him.

"This situation isn't all that rare in Sacae and the surrounding lands," Lyn explained sadly, "Bandits ransack and loot any unguarded or unwary villages with wild abandon."

"But why doesn't any marquis put a halt to this?" wondered Sain, whose mind still couldn't quite grasp that mere bandits could get away with such an act.

"In Sacae," Lyn replied, "There is no uniform government that rules over a certain portion of the land. The land belongs only to the strong, or any who can back up their words with weapons. The tribal clans don't venture into areas like this so close to the border, so bandits hold sway here. Hence cruelty upon cruelty piles."

Kent and Sain stared at her in disbelief, hoping with all their hearts that what they heard was falsehood. As knights, their sworn duties were to honor their lord and protect the weak. The former they followed to the best of their abilities, but the latter seemed to mock their helplessness in a faraway land.

"Damn it!" Sain ranted, as Kent seemed to devour the smoking village with his eyes.

"These mountains are home to the Taliver Bandits," Lyn continued, "arguably one of the most ruthless and savage band of outlaws in the Sacaen area. In truth, the other clans do not venture here after the Taliver annihilated my tribe, the Lorca, in these parts in only one night. The survivors, including me, you could count on the fingers of two hands…"

_If you only knew_, Drake thought silently, _if you only knew who had a hand in that fall, Lyn_. _May I forever burn in hell for what I've done_.

"They're heartless demons," Lyn choked out, "And I will never forgive them. One day, when I am strong enough, they will all pay for what they've done."

"When yonder day comes," Kent replied, "Count me in."

"And I as well," Sain remarked, his normally cheerful eyes uncommonly serious.

"But," Lyn started, "There is no…"

"I believe there is," Kent corrected, "You are the future heir of Caelin. Sain and I are knights of your house, sworn men that will follow you wherever you go. As vassals, we could do no less, in the name of duty and honor."

"We're with you, milady," Sain echoed, "Whether you like it or not."

"Better add me to the list as well."

"Drake? You too?" Lyn asked, though a smile lit her face, "With all of your help, those scoundrels won't stand a chance."

_Ay_, Drake said silently, _add me to the list of evil you shall cut down Lyn, for I deserve no less when the time comes_.

Passing along a dense patch of forestry, the travelers found themselves once again before a village. Thankfully, this once appeared to have its walls and houses intact.

"Ah, warm bed, warm food, and female companionship," Sain dreamed, "What else could a man ask for?"

"A clean mind," Lyn remarked, though Sain only beamed at that.

"Chastised by milady herself," Sain replied, "Paradise itself!"

Drake and Kent took the opportunity to smack themselves in the forehead.

"Is he always like that?" Drake wondered despairingly.

"Do I really have to answer that?" Kent asked back.

Just then, a startled cry and a flap of wings interrupted their conversation.

"Did you hear that?" Lyn asked.

"Let's investigate," Sain suggested, "By mine ears, I do believe that was the cry of a damsel in distress."

Lyn rolled her eyes at that while Drake and Kent both let out a sigh.

"Sometimes…" Drake began.

"…I don't believe I know him," Kent finished, utterly depressed at his comrade's behavior.

As the four followed the wooden fence that surrounded the village, they could barely make out an argument that was occurring around the corner. Though they were mostly keeping their voices down, a few faint words from an enraged person could be made out.

"She's a pretty one ain't she?" One voice said, "Bet she'd fetch a good sum."

"She roughed me up quite a bit," another voice agreed, "It's only what she deserves."

"Rats," Kent spoke suddenly, "Hold Sai…"

Whatever he wanted to say, it was obviously too late from the cloud of dust Sain kicked up as he spurred his horse around the corner.

"Halt fiends!" Sain bellowed, "Remove your hands from the lady!"

Two bandits and a young girl looked up from whatever argument they were having and stared at Sain.

"And who the hell are you?" One bandit asked.

"I," came the reply, "Am Sain the Just, defender of the weak and liberator of oppressed wome…"

"Shut up, Sain," Kent interrupted, out of breath from catching up with his partner.

"Aw, Kent," Sain whined, "Don't spoil my entrance!"

"Is that a pegasus?" Lyn interrupted, completely ignoring the knights, "And, are you Florina?"

The orchid haired young girl turned around and let out a sigh of relief, "Lyn!"

"Florina, what are you doing here?" Lyn asked.

"I, I," Florina sobbed, "I came looking for you. I-I landed at this village to ask if they had seen you, but…"

"But she was stupid enough to land on top of Migar!" One of the bandits roared.

Florina let out a small squeal and hid behind Lyn.

"And might I inquire to what you are doing here?" Drake asked carelessly, as if not uninterested in the matter.

"Uh…" The one named Migar started, "We, uh, were, err…"

"I believe I can answer that!" A new voice from the village rang out.

A youth with brown hair and a bow slung over one shoulder advanced towards them. Sporting a quiver of arrows hanging from a belt, he stopped before the bandits.

"Hello, my name is Wil," the archer began, "I'm a traveler of sorts and wandered here to this village. Showing me great hospitality, the village elder informed me that there was a troublesome group of bandits that were harrying this village lately and requested my aid in defending the village," here he stopped and fixed the bandits with knowing look.

If at all possible, the pair of bandits paled even further, though one appeared to be more angry than fearful.

"I don't care about your gibberish," Migar roared, "This girl and her pegasus come with us, by force if necessary!"

"Pardon me from interrupting," Drake remarked calmly, "You have two warriors while we have around half a dozen, counting this Wil here. How do you plan on using force?"

Migar's face turned red, then pale, then finally purple with rage. Reaching out, he grabbed Florina's hand and tried to pull her away from Lyn. He stopped only when he realized there was a sword imbedded in his chest.

"I never favored bandits anyways," Lyn muttered darkly as she tugged the blade free from the corpse, "And I will never suffer one of my friends to fall into your hands!"

Migar's companion, thoroughly dismayed at seeing Migar's demise, beat a hasty retreat, disappearing into the forests. While Florina thanked Lyn and Sain loudly praised the sword stroke, Drake bent down to inspect Migar's corpse.

"Wil," Drake asked, "Do you by any chance know what group of bandits you were up against when defending that village?"

"Hm," Wil replied, thinking back, "I don't recall the exact name, but the elder did mention it was a large band that was called, Gan… That's torn it, I don't remember any more."

"It wouldn't be Ganelon, would it?" Drake said coldly.

"That's it! Ganelon!" Wil replied happily, "Wait, how did you know?"

"This," Kent replied, pointing towards the tattoo on Migar's left shoulder, where the word "Ganelon" was roughly inscribed.

"Well at any rate, this village will be quite safe," Drake sighed as he sat back on his haunches.

"What makes you think that?" Kent and Wil asked curiously.

"These bandits are out for blood now, and their target won't be a village they haven't even touched yet," Drake fixed them with a piercing look.

"It'll be us…" Wil realized in horror, "To avenge their own blood."

"Then we better get moving," Lyn said softly, causing Wil to jump in surprise, "I just caught the end of your conversation, and we better get as far from the village as possible."

Near evening, Lyn and her companions found themselves before an abandoned fortress. Possibly manned by Lycian soldiers in the past, the present day fortress was sadly in need of repair, complete with faulty walls, a second courtyard, and a weathered main gate.

"Well, I suppose this will provide tolerable shelter tonight," Wil said.

"This?" Sain managed, "Surely we can do better. And why are you with us anyways?"

"You are headed towards Lycia, correct?" Wil pointed out, "I'm actually a native of Lycia, and a mercenary as well. I spoke with Drake and Lady Lyndis earlier, and signed on as one of Lyndis' Legion."

"Mercenaries and vassals," Drake said softly behind them, "Both will be needed for Lyn to reach Caelin safely. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be inspecting the fortress now."

"I notice that you didn't remark about Florina traveling with us," Wil observed after Drake left.

"That's a different story altogether," Sain declared, "Meek maidens always need a stout sword to defend them and…"

"Give it a rest, Sain," Kent interposed, "You heard as well as the rest of us that Florina said she'd be fine as long as she stayed with Lady Lyndis."

"At any rate," Lyn said out loud, "We best be getting some rest. Though I must say I'm pleased to stay somewhere that I can feel the wind."

Sain couldn't resist the temptation, "Rest well, ladies, your trustworthy Sain will see that none disturb your rest," he dropped to a knee and took Florina's hand for a kiss.

Nearly shrieking in surprise, Florina fled to the relative safety behind Lyn before stammering, "P-please, n-not so close!"

Trying to hide her mirth at Sain's shocked expression, Lyn explained, "I forgot to tell you all that Florina is quite shy towards men, and tends to freeze a little if you come to close. And for the sake of your health, Sain, I advise you not to take advantage of her in any way."

Sain, to everyone's bewilderment, did not come up with any cheeky response, "Yes, milady."

"Though I'm glad you volunteered for guard duty," Kent replied, "Because we'll be alternating the watch tonight."

"Did I miss something?" Drake asked, stepping out of the shadows of the archway, drawing a small squeak of surprise from Florina, "Lyn, I found someone who wishes to speak with you in the fortress." Drake gestured to a young woman he was supporting with his right arm.

"Forgive me for disturbing you," the young woman began, "My name is Natalie, I come from a village nearby."

"Nice to meet you," Lyn replied.

"I am searching for my husband," Natalie went on, "He left the village searching for employment to pay for any medication to heal my leg, rendered lame from a childhood illness. However, I have not heard of Dorcas for days…"

"Could you describe him? Perhaps one of us has seen him," Wil asked.

"Certainly," Natalie replied, "He's tall, broad of shoulder with wide arms capable of bearing great weight. He has thin red hair cropped short, pale skin, and small eyes. He is also very taciturn in his speaking."

"I'm sorry," Lyn answered, "We haven't met anyone of that sort on our journey."

"Is that so?" Natalie said sadly, "If you meet him, please tell him that I'm very worried for his well being."

"Of course," Lyn agreed, "However, would you like to stay with us tonight? Surely you can't get very far with that leg, and bandits do frequent this area."

"You are most kind," Natalie thanked Lyn, "I hope I won't be too much of a burden."

Crouched behind a tree atop a hill, another unbidden visitor was observing the group that had taken refuge in the abandoned fort. After making a quick headcount, he rushed down the hill to where his leader and the rest of the gang were located.

"It's them alright," the grunt reported, "They be the ones who did poor Migal in. Couple of women and roughly the same number of men."

"Perfect," his leader, a rough bandit named Carjiga murmured, "We'll slay the men and take the womenfolk as slaves. Perhaps they'll fetch us a better price than the last batch."

Hefting his ax, Carjiga considered his options. This wasn't the first time he had staged a raid on this fort, and he had foolishly charged all of his forces through the front last time, only to yield disastrous results. Remembering the side entrance, he grimaced slightly. The western entrance was narrow and run down, and he didn't need to sacrifice any good ax man for a meat shield. Speaking of meat shields…

"Where's Dorcas?" Carjiga barked out, "Get him here, I have a work for him."

Dorcas shuffled his way to the front of the pack with a bored expression on his face. Tall and broad, he claimed he was a skilled warrior, but that had yet to be tested. The men probably won't complain if the Silent One, as they had dubbed him, was killed in combat anyways.

"You be Dorcas?" Carjiga grunted, "You haven't done much with us since joining with the Ganelos. Today, you'll go around the western entrance and nab a few of the women. Do it and I'll increase your share twofold."

"…" Dorcas merely nodded, before turning and headed towards the entrance.

"Err, twofold?"

"Shut up, you idiot!" Carjiga slapped the nosy bandit, "Of course he gets twofold, right mates? We have to reward those who stick their necks out too far for the gang, eh?"

"Ah, you're so smart boss," the bandit crowed while rubbing the back of his head.

Meanwhile, Lyn's group was gathered around a blazing campfire installed within the inner courtyard. Wil was sitting with his back to the wall, whittling away at a new arrow. Natalie and Florina were both sound asleep, though Florina's pegasus seemed to be enjoying the warmth of the flame Lyn occasionally prodded with a fresh stick. Tossing the twig into the flames, Lyn arose and stretched before leaving the shelter for a walk.

Passing between the rotten double doors that separated the inner courtyard from the outer walls, Lyn almost stepped on Sain. The said knight was crouched with his back against the outer wall, though the dim light rendered his green armor nearly invisible to sight. Shaken from his nap by Lyn's footsteps, Sain gripped his sword tightly, relaxing only after recognizing Lyn.

"Kent's standing guard at the main gate," he said sleepily, "And Drake said he'd relieve me for a bit on the west side…"

Yawning, Sain turned slightly before tilting his head, as if listening to something. Straining her own hearing, Lyn could faintly pick out soft tune fluttering in the wind from the west.

"Must be Drake," Sain mumbled before his head dipped lower to his chest, "Almost sounds like a lullaby my mother used to sing…"

Following the path to the right, Lyn turned the corner to find Drake perched atop a broken embankment, with something held lightly before his mouth in one hand. Venturing closer, Lyn perceived that Drake was playing a reed flute, which was simply a blade of grass bent slightly pressed lightly to your lips. Abruptly, the music stopped as Drake lowered his hand.

"Good evening, Lyn," he greeted without turning around.

"How did you know it was me?" Lyn asked as she sat down next to him.

"You have the softest footfall," Drake explained dispassionately, as if the matter held no consequence to him, "Kent and Sain clank around in armor, Wil's arrows knock against one another in wind, Natalie should be asleep, and Florina wouldn't approach me by herself."

"Hmph," Lyn grumbled, "You should teach me your observation skills, and maybe a little of that tune as well."

"Where I was born, every child could play that before they reached their fourth summer."

"Etruria huh?" Lyn asked, only to have Drake grimace.

"Let's not talk about that," he said, "Too many memories that shouldn't be awakened, and too many ghosts that should've been buried," his tone changed slightly, "Do you think we should make a slight detour tomorrow?"

"Detour?" Lyn queried, "Oh, you mean for Natalie?"

At that, a bush a few dozen feet ahead of them rustled violently.

"That was no wind," Lyn said softly, drawing her sword.

"Peace," a voice called out as a large man emerged from his cover, "I mean you no harm. I just overheard you say the name Natalie?"

"Come out of the shadows to where we can see you," Lyn called out.

The man obeyed, venturing forth from beneath the trees to where the moonlight cascaded over him. At his appearance, Drake sucked in a breath and began appraising him up and down.

"Tall, broad of shoulder with arms of great strength," he began slowly before Lyn caught on.

"Thin, cropped red hair, pale skin and small eyes," Lyn finished, "You wouldn't happen to be Dorcas would you?"

The man paused, "How do you know my name?" he asked slowly.

"We just met your wife in these ruins but a few candlemarks ago," Drake replied, baiting him.

"Natalie?" Dorcas' eyes widened, "You met Natalie here?"

Seeing there was no doubt in his identity, Lyn sheathed her sword, "Yes, she was actually out here searching for you and is currently staying with us."

"I thank you for taking care of her," tucking a large hand ax back into his belt, Dorcas replied, "I'd like to see her as soon as possible."

"Of course," Lyn said, "Follow me."

"Hold," Drake held up a hand, "Are they coming tonight?" At this he pointed towards Dorcas' shoulder, where faded charcoal marks roughly spelled out the engraving "Ganelon."

Dorcas gazed at the man before him with certain surprise, though his face rarely betrayed any emotion whatsoever. Nodding slightly, he turned and followed Lyn to where Natalie was staying.

The hapless bandits were completely unaware that the outnumbered group within was armed to the teeth and itching for a fight. Armed with Dorcas' prior warning about an imminent raid, all thoughts of sleep were banished from the defender's minds. While Kent and Sain waited behind the battered main gates, Wil was scrambling up to one of the rickety guard towers above them to provide covering fire. After a hasty council with Drake, Lyn and Florina would sneak out the western entrance to ambush the bandits from the rear. Dorcas would remain in the inner courtyard with Natalie, and would provide support in the event that Kent and Sain were overwhelmed.

Sain scoffed when Drake suggested that, "These fools will learn the strength and valor of Caelin knights are unmatched in all of Elibe!"

"Wouldn't Lady Lyndis and Florina be in danger striking at the enemy alone?" Kent wondered instead.

"You may rest easy on that point," Drake answered, "Lyn pointed out, and I concur, that bandits usually function with the leader hiding in the back, usually alone or with a light escort. Infamous for their idiocy, if we cut off the head of the snake, the entire beast will die." _Though I suspect that Lyn is intentionally making this strike a personal matter between her and the bandits_.

"At any rate," Sain interrupted, "Florina can get Lady Lyndis out of there in a hurry if there are more than they can handle."

"That would only be necessary if the two of you don't cause a big enough ruckus," Drake observed drolly, "Then again, two cavalrymen in the midst of ax wielding bandits usually draws a crowd of its own. Wil has the two of you covered from atop, so sing out if you need cover when retreating."

"Retreat?" Sain thundered, "We shall never retreat fro…"

"Peace Sain," Kent said while thwacking the butt of his lance lightly on his comrade's head, "By your leave, Drake, we're moving out."

Outside before the front gate, the other bandits were fidgeting nervously. Carjiga had been confident that the pickings would be easy, but the utter silence was unnerving them all.

"Hey, boss," one of them whispered, "What happened to Dorcas and the others?"

"Shut up!" Carjiga snapped impatiently, "They're sure taking their time to go around the sides. If they take any longer, we'll just charge up the middle and smash everything!"

Two minutes roll by.

"Bah, forget those fools!" Carjiga roared, "We'll decrease their portion of the loot later. Char… Ugh…"

As he was the only bandit shouting at the top of his lungs, Carjiga conveniently painted himself as a bright target for Wil. Notching an arrow, Wil let fly the shot, and was rewarded by the bandit's scream of pain.

Carjiga shuffled back, "Forward, you lazy filth! I want that bastard who shot me alive!"

Before the armed bandits reached the front gates, the rotten double doors banged open by themselves. Astonished, the lead bandit stopped and peered into the darkness, trying to discern whatever was happening before the sound of pounding hooves reached his ears.

Charging out of the darkness and silhouetted by the fading moonlight, the two mounted cavaliers must have appeared to be some unearthly phantoms to the superstitious brigands. Fear overwhelming their senses for a few brief seconds, they were unable to challenge the mounted charge. Rudely overturning an astonished bandit with his steed, Sain's sword swept out and claimed the life of another before Kent was upon them. Reinvigorated by the death rattle of one of their comrades, the bandits threw themselves into battle with terrible war cries upon their lips. Wil peppered anyone below him who was not mounted with a deadly hail of arrows. Though outnumbered nearly ten to one, Sain and Kent stood fast against the horde due to their stout horses and sable armor.

Carjiga sneered at the sight before him while his guard danced with glee. Though the knights fought like demons, they'd be overwhelmed eventually. Fortune favored him presently, for as he lifted his head, he found a pegasus knight charging full tilt at him. Rolling aside, Carjiga drew his ax while barely averting the keen lance. His companion was not so lucky, catching the full brunt of the attack and dropping stone dead. From the pegasus' back leapt a swordswoman with a drawn blade whose blazing eyes were fixated upon him.

"Are you of the Taliver?" The swordswoman asked him.

"Taliver?" Carjiga asked aghast, "We are Ganelon, with more honor than any of those Taliver savages."

"Consider yourself lucky then," Lyn replied, "I will spare your lives if you get your miserable band out of my sight."

"T-that does it," Carjiga frothed from the mouth, "Die woman!"

Trembling with rage, he charged forward and landed a furious blow upon… the ground? Lyn, learning from her previous battles with untrained bandits, had sidestepped the blow before delivering a fatal slash upon Carjiga's unprotected back.

"You did well," a voice said behind her.

"Drake!" Lyn half turned out of surprise, "Don't sneak up to me like that."

"You were a little too concentrated on your duel to notice me," he replied, "Though Kent and Sain could use a little help. You and Florina fit to charge the bandits from the rear as planned?"

"O-of, of c-course," Florina stammered, not looking Drake in the eye. She and Lyn charged towards the bandits encircling the knights. Moments later, from the roars of surprise and rage, the bandits evidently noticed that they were under attack from two fronts and their mighty leader wasn't there to lead them.

"Now, what should I do with you?" Drake said to Carjiga's prone form.

The figure stirred slightly, proving that he wasn't quite dead yet. Turning the body over with his foot, Drake placed his boot upon the bandit's neck and slightly pushed. Eyes bulging, the bandit regained consciousness, gasping for air.

"M-mercy," Carjiga begged, "P-please, please let me live."

"Mercy I may grant," came the response, "That would depend on your truthfulness. Were you of the Taliver?"

"N-no… Ugh!"

"You lie!" The boot ground down as Drake softly continued, "You were there, weren't you? Half a year ago, you accepted the gift on the eve of the Lorca's destruction, did you not?"

"Who… Who the hell… Are you?" Carjiga's eyes widened again, out of pure terror, "N-no, you can't be!"

"Yes," came the merciless reply, as the boot crushed the windpipe, "I am he…"

Behind him, the surviving bandits were scattering to the four winds, fleeing from the merciless swords and lances that had utterly defeated them in battle.

Dawn found a tired but victorious group of warriors assembled before the fortress. Despite the late brawl the previous evening, Drake had been adamant about continuing the journey.

"Araphen, a province of Lycia, lies but a few days journey from here," he explained, "The faster we reach Lycia, the faster we get these nosy bandits off our backs."

"Though we are then under the watchful eyes of a new foe," Lyn sighed, "Lundgren and his cronies…"

"Fear not, milady," Sain cried, "Your invincible Sain will guard you ever step of the way!"

"Sain!" Kent admonished curtly.

Throwing her hands up, Lyn was just about to give up Sain as a hopeless cause when she caught the eye of Natalie and Dorcas.

"I'll be taking Natalie back to the village," Dorcas said slowly, "But I'll catch up with your group in Araphen."

"Catch up?" Lyn asked, "Surely you should be staying in the village."

"Well," Natalie said, "Dorcas and I agree that we owe you a sincere debt, Lady Lyndis. Since Dorcas still needs to earn money, well, he…"

"I was hoping I could come along as one of your mercenaries," Dorcas picked up, "We do owe you after all."

"Please watch over my husband," Natalie finished.

"We'll gladly accept him as one of the us," Lyn replied, "Then we shall see you in Araphen in a few days."

_There, another few members added to the party_. _I apologize if I'm going a little out of order here, but I didn't want to follow the game script exactly and have a fight over every single person joining the army. I'll be incorporating much of two chapters in Lyn's Story into one chapter, though that will stop once I finish her story. Review if you have the time!_


	5. Bloodline

_Author's Corner:_

_Not much to say this time, but I feel the need to apologize for the previous chapter. As was noted, the last part of the chapter was rushed (a bit), as I really don't like to write about large, grandiose fights over a meaningless plotline. (For example, it seems that in FE7 that every time someone joins, you must fight some sort of grandiose battle in order to recruit his or her services.) I hate writing those chapters because it's just a brawl with nothing to support it. Pardon me for my stubbornness._

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 4**

**Bloodline**

_March 31st, within the gates of Araphen,_

_Araphen, second largest city in Lycia behind Osita, is home to as diverse a crowd as the myriad merchants who populate the streets. According to Etrurian military accounts, it possesses enough problems to rival that diversity as well. Though boasting of considerable population size, Araphen is also infamous for its poor security and military capabilities. The reigning marquises have frequently sought the services of mercenaries to fill the ranks of the Araphen Guard, a testimony to the strength of the native force. It is rumored that the various marquises of Araphen prefer to line their purses with gold than spending their taxes properly training/equipping the city's defenses. As bandits plague Araphen considerably more than the average Lycian state, I wonder how safe we are in light of the recent skirmishes we have undergone._

"What a magnificent city," Lyn exclaimed as she gazed upon Araphen's looming walls. The group of travelers made their way beneath the high arches that guarded Araphen's formidable gates.

"Araphen, second largest city in all of Lycia," Sain replied, "Filled with shops of all sorts, more markets than you'd imagine possible, and, of course, bountiful taverns with beautiful young ladies."

"We didn't need to know about that," Lyn muttered.

"By the way," Wil remarked gazing around, "Where did Sir Kent go?"

"I believe he was headed towards the castle," Drake commented, "Said he would be procuring the aid of the marquis for our endeavor. How he will succeed in this is currently beyond me."

"Speaking of Kent," Sain interrupted while pointing down the road, "There he is!"

Checking his horse's pace before Lyn, Kent dismounted, "Milady, let us make haste to the castle. The marquis agreed to aid our cause and has prepared supplies for us."

"Really?" Lyn replied, "That is fortunate."

"Araphen and Caelin have enjoyed close ties with one another in the past," Kent explained, "Once the marquis understood our situation, he was quick to extend a helping hand."

"In that case, let us head towards the castle at once."

As the group slowly made their way through the crowded streets of Araphen, Drake couldn't help but listen to the various rumors surrounding the city.

"What do you think about Lord Torson's claim to the throne?"

"Fool he is," a drunk slurred, "Only way to the throne for him is by the sword."

"He doesn't have the forces to pull off a coup," a drinking buddy agreed.

"But didn't he threaten that he'd return with outside help?" A pipe-smoking old man wondered out loud.

"Empty threats," someone else droned, "Why, if I were him…"

"MATTHEW!" A shrill cry of joy caused everyone along the street to turn his or her eyes, scarcely in time to see a pink-haired cleric flatten a young man with a bone-crushing hug.

"S-Serra!" The young man, whom everyone assumed to be Matthew, stammered nervously, "What are you doing here?"

"You're Matthew?" A purple haired mage behind Serra spoke, "I'm Erk and the appointed escort," here he grimaced, "Of this pink haired menace to all life," he muttered in an undertone.

"Hm? Erky, did you say something?" Serra craned her head and leveled him with a look.

"Err… No, I didn't," Erk lied, "I was just commenting about the contract that Matthew's agent and I had agreed to."

"What about it?" Matthew asked as he gingerly got back to his feet with Serra still clinging on to his neck like a leech.

"He mentioned escorting a frail Lycian priestess to Ostia," Erk said slowly.

"And what of it?" Serra asked detaching from Matthew, who was rubbing his neck

"She," Erk stated flatly, "Is nothing remotely close to frail."

_From what we've just seen_, Lyn and Drake exchanged a look; _I'd be forced to agree with that comment_.

"And furthermore," Erk continued, "Since I've met with my contractor, I can safely hand her over to you," Erk grinned while Matthew groaned with despair, "And continue on my way."

"Uh, how about not?" Matthew ventured, "The contract did say escort her to Ostia, did it not?"

Erk's face fell, "Look, I'll return your money if I have to, can you just take her?"

From Matthew's thoughtful expression, it could be readily assumed he was weighing the profit margin versus dealing with Serra for a leg of the journey. Then he remembered Serra's embrace and shuddered violently.

"I think not!"

"Eh?" Matthew and Matthew both turned to see an enraged Serra glaring at them.

"You are MY escort, Erk!" Serra said softly in a dangerous tone, "A noblewoman such as myself simply CANNOT be seen in public without a handsome, tidy escort at her side! Though," here she looked thoughtful, "I wouldn't mind having two escorts easy on the eyes… So Matthew, you're coming too."

Matthew and Erk flinched before what she said sank in. After a pregnant pause, they stared at one another in horror before pointing fingers at each other, "This is so your fault!"

At this point, there were so many bystanders watching the live drama before them that traffic was just a little bit too congested along the narrow street.

"Alright you midgets," a tall mercenary interrupted impatiently behind them, "Surely you can take your dispute into a tavern of some sort. You're holding up traffic."

"Quiet!" Serra admonished, "I'm busy here!"

Stunned at the vivacity of the cleric, the mercenary gaped for a brief second before cursing and drawing his sword. He was about to split the girl in two when someone caught his arm from the side.

"Shame on you sir," Sain barked, "For drawing a blade upon a lady!"

Lyn raised an eyebrow and mentally reminded herself to gag Sain in any public appearance. Wil was reduced to a coughing fit as he tried to contain his laughter in vain while Florina merely blinked in confusion. Kent and Drake smacked themselves on the forehead, "Here we go again."

The mercenary looked at Sain, "Who the hell are you?"

"Me?" Sain said with a flourish, "I am…"

"Save it, Sain," Lyn growled, "I'm in no mood to hear that speech again."

"Why of course," Sain replied, "Milady Lyndis…"

Drake's head snapped up at Sain's words. _Idiotic buffoon_, he groaned inwardly, _why couldn't he have just cut out his tongue and fed it to himself! It is too early for Lycia to know of Lyn's identity_!

The mercenary did not miss the name either, though he did a tolerable job masking it. His sole reaction was briefly widening his eyes, but even such a small motion cannot escape those familiar with observing minute details such as Lyn, Drake or Matthew. Smirking slightly, the mercenary and his cronies surrounded Lyn and her companions. Sensing an imminent explosion of violence, the bystanders and merchants scattered from the streets, barricading themselves within their little homes.

"That's torn it," Drake muttered. _Saint Elimine knows how many people know of your presence now, Lyn._

"Nice going Sain," Lyn remarked.

Sain seemed to wilt, albeit a tiny fraction, "Milady knows I meant no harm. I had forgotten that Lycia is slightly different than where we came from."

"No use crying over spilt milk," Wil said while drawing his bow, "I do believe these people mean to do us harm." He jerked his thumb at the mercenaries.

"What is going on here?"

Friend and foe alike turned to look at the rider who directed his steed easily along the street towards them. Clad in the unmistakable colors of a Sacaen nomad, the warrior reined in his fiery steed before glaring coldly at the assembled group before him. Although there were no particular emblems upon his horse, the rider had the seal of Araphen emblazoned over his left chest.

"Captain of the Araphen Guard," Kent muttered softly.

"What did you say?" Lyn asked.

"Captain of the Guard," Drake explained, "The majority of Lycian states distinguish between soldiers and ranking officers by the location of their territorial seals. If the sigil is inscribed on the soldier's right, then he is a rank and file footman. If the sigil is inscribed on the left, then it is usually an officer. Given that Araphen is famous for its lack of military personnel, I'd wager they only have one officer in the entire outfit: Captain of the Araphen Guard."

"…" The nomad remained silent, though a barely perceptible nod confirmed that their words were true. Roving his eyes over the two parties before him, his gaze stopped upon Lyn.

"Captain, eh?" The mercenary called out, "You there, by order of the marquis, Lyndis is to be slain immediately!"

Despite the shock written upon the faces of Lyn and her companions, the nomad turned calmly and fixated the mercenary with a glare, "I received no such order from the marquis. Who are you to order me?"

The man sneered, "Your marquis will soon be replaced by Lord Torson, the rightful lord of all Araphen! I'd suggest you curry some favor by bringing him the head of this Caelin upstart."

"I had come intending to give aid to a Sacaen tribeswoman, but it appears I've been mistaken," the nomad replied nonchalantly.

"No, you're right," Lyn exclaimed, "I am Lyn, of the Lorca."

"Lorca? There were survivors?" The nomad studied Lyn in disbelief.

"What I say is the truth, I swear by this sword," Lyn said boldly, hefting the Mani Katti before her.

Any true Sacaen would recognize the sacred sword of the plains instantly, and the captain was no exception.

"I see, I believe you," he replied, "I am Rath of the Kutolah. Well met, Lyn of the Lorca. Those that belong to the plains fight alongside one another."

"A thousand blessings upon you for aiding us," Lyn called out in the time-honored Sacaen bond of comradeship.

"And a thousand curses upon our enemies," Rath responded in turn.

"So you will not aid us?" The mercenary spat venomously, "Then we shall slay you as well! At them boys!"

"Oh, a fight, a fight!" Serra exclaimed happily.

_For a cleric of St. Elimine_, Drake noted, _this one sure is a belligerent one. Mental note to self, never cross her path in a negative fashion._

"Hmph," Serra grumbled, placing her hands on her hips, "Twenty odd mercenaries picking on a lady and half a dozen escorts is hardly what I call fair. As a noblewoman myself, I simply cannot stand for such a rude welcome for someone of similar rank. Matthew, Erk, as part of my entourage, you shall assist me in aiding this young lady."

"What?" Erk said worriedly, "I already discharged my duties by handing you to Matthew!"

"Trying to wiggle out of this, eh?" Matthew said while grabbing Erk's collar, "You're coming with us until you see Serra to Ostia. Which means obeying her orders to without question." _What luck_, Matthew smirked inwardly, _I was originally sent by Lord Uther to ascertain the existence of Caelin's heir, and lo and behold I run into that person in Araphen! If I play my hand correctly, Ostia will have a new ally and I'll earn myself a raise! Not to mention any treasures on the way as well…_

Serra beamed like a cat that got the cream while Erk groaned in utter despair.

"Damn," the mercenary bit out, "You and you, go inform Lord Torson about this, I'll deal with these brats. Be sure to bar the gates as well." Two of the mercenary's party took off for the castle while the remaining soldiers drew their weapons and approached Lyn's group.

"They outnumber us," Drake said quietly, "Form a line across the street. This way a numerically inferior force can hold back a larger party by dealing with an even number of foes at separate instances instead of the entire enemy in one gulp."

Sain and Kent readied their lances and moved their mounts to either side of Lyn. Matthew finished the line by placing himself on Kent's left while everyone else gathered behind them. "Shall we get this show started now, curs?" Sain called out scornfully.

Stung by the challenge, the mercenary force charged forward like a swarm of angry bees. However, as Drake had guessed, the narrow street allowed only five to six enemies to engage Lyn's forces at one time. In a one-on-one confrontation, Lyn, Kent, Sain, and Matthew could easily hold their own against the mediocre skill level of their opponents. Adding Rath, Wil, and Erk's range support from the second rank easily tipped the scales of the skirmish in their favor.

"Too easy," Drake muttered, "Florina, take to the skies and see if anyone is coming around to ambush us from behind. Be wary of any archers!"

"O-OK," she stammered, keeping her eyes trimmed on the ground while mounting her pegasus.

After half a candle mark of vicious hand-to-hand combat, the mercenary force fled for the castle, leaving half a dozen of their one-time comrades, including their leader, lying cold in the dust. Mercenary forces across Elibe, with the notable exception of Ilia's disciplined air fleet, tended to function somewhat akin to bandit forces in a pitched battle. Though operating with a higher degree of skill and equipped with superior weapons than their brigand counterparts, mercenary divisions were infamous for having the strongest soldier of fortune lead a ragged band of sword brothers. Naturally, when the said strongest fighter falls in combat, the remainder easily lose heart and often retreat to lick their wounds while electing a new leader. The Ilian mercenary force was a rare exception, providing highly skilled fighters who were loyal to a fault towards their employers. Unfortunately for any would-be buyers, these pegasi riders also tend to be quite pricey, and those who refused to pay the required sum were inclined to look elsewhere for troops.

Heaving a sigh of relief and wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of the hand, Lyn stopped to watch everyone around her. Wil was examining if any arrows used in the fight could be reused while Florina was still circling overhead looking for trouble. Erk and Matthew were in a heated argument, presumably concerning the reason they were dragged into this mess. Serra was inspecting a gash on Sain's horse, with its owner flattering the cleric's 'unparalleled beauty and grace' until Kent put a stop to that attempt.

_Some things will never change wherever we go_, Lyn thought as she watched Kent lecture Sain concerning the proper conduct of a knight in the presence of a lady. She wagered that whatever Kent was painstakingly preaching would go in one ear of his friend and right out the other.

"I suppose the primary difficulty is entering the castle," Drake's voice drifted from behind her.

Lyn turned around to find Drake and Rath discussing the situation. Intrigued by the bits and pieces of their conversation and her own suspicions, Lyn interrupted, "What did the mercenary mean by the marquis wanted my head?"

"There was no such order from the marquis," Rath shrugged, as emotionless as ever, "I was ordered to direct the Caelin heir to the castle, that was all."

"Then whatever did the soldier mean?" Lyn persisted.

"By any chance," Drake interposed softly, "Did someone besides Lyn drop by in an unexpected manner?"

Rath gave him a sharp glance, "Someone did. Lord Torson of Araphen." Rath winced slightly at the title.

"The marquis' brother?" Lyn asked.

"More like half-brother, I'd suppose," Drake supplied, "I have heard of him in Etruria, where he sought refuge after being denied the throne of Araphen."

"Correct," Rath replied, "Though the elder son of the previous lord, Lord Torson was denied the throne for some reason I do not know. Exiled by his half brother, the current lord, Lord Torson swore to return one day and claim his rightful inheritance. Yet when he was exiled, he left alone with no retainers, so how did he gain access of the castle so quickly?"

"My thoughts exactly," Lyn said, "If he was exiled, where did he get the soldiers to help in this coup? Subjects loyal to his cause in Araphen?"

"Unlikely," Matthew jumped into the conversation from behind, "I've been in Araphen for some time now, and from the common gossip in the streets, it seems Lord Torson was even less popular then his brother, the reigning lord. Highly improbable he obtained help from Araphen. Must've been a foreign source."

"Etruria?" Lyn tried again.

"Doubtful," Matthew again replied, "Etruria is commonly embroiled with its internal conflicts and recently has no interest in foreign affairs of other nation states due to a power struggle between the two prominent houses Reglay and Caerleon."

Rath and Lyn both nodded, though Drake fixated a stare on Matthew. Coughing nervously, Matthew went back to his conversation with Erk, aware that the tactician's eyes were on him.

_Uncannily resourceful for a thief_, Drake thought, _I must be paranoid, but where did he obtain such information? The street informants are usually not privy to such classified data of Lycian states, and I can testify to that Etruria surely does not give away information of this magnitude to anyone who asks._

"You two are looking too far," Drake said softly, "The answer is right under our noses again."

"…What makes you say that?" Rath ventured.

"Lyn's name," Drake reasoned, "How many people outside of Caelin would react to the name 'Lyndis?' Our mercenary friend, who unfortunately is quite dead, reacted quite favorably to Sain blurting out that name. In short, he was hired to remove Lyn and would have been a direct link to the person who sent him."

Rath raised an eyebrow, silently prompting Drake to explain, but Lyn had caught on immediately.

"Lundgren," she gritted her teeth. Drake noted with a small smirk that his patient fishing had borne fruit as he perceived Matthew's head jerk up at that name.

"I'd presume," Drake continued, "That Lundgren had somehow found about our poor Lord Torson's plight and offered him a deal. This pact would run something along the lines of 'I will supply you with troops to fulfill your vengeance, in return, remove this pesky upstart heir for me.'"

"So what do we do now?" Lyn asked, though still fuming at the mere mention of Lundgren's name.

"Since the original marquis wishes to aid us on our journey and the usurper wishes to kill you, Lyn," Drake outlined, "I'd suppose we'd aid Rath in a rescue attempt. Would I be correct in assuming that Rath will be trying to aid the marquis with or without our assistance?"

Rath nodded while gripping his bow tightly in hand.

"I do not question your skills, Rath of Kutolah," Lyn said, stressing his tribe only to inform the Sacaen that she was serious, "What I do question is our numbers. We have barely the numbers to throw off a mercenary band, how do we assault a castle with guarded walls?"

Rath looked around to see that no stray ears were listening behind leaning close, "There is an ancient underground passageway installed in the castle. Originally built as an escape avenue for the marquis in the event that the castle was overrun, it is also operable from the other end, which is in this city. There are three switches that will open the passage from within the city, granting us access to the interior of the castle without the guards noticing."

"Would the mercenaries know of this?" Drake wondered, "If not, perhaps Lord Torson would have foreseen this?"

"Not possible," Rath countered, "The passageway is well disguised, and cannot be detected if one does not know where it is. Secondly, only two people in all of Araphen would know of this secret, the ruling lord and the captain. Upon ascending the throne, one of the first secrets divulged is the existence of this tunnel. Torson would never know the assault is coming."

"Are the switches guarded?" Lyn asked.

"That I'm not sure," Rath admitted, "I can safely venture that two are not guarded, as one is hidden in the basement of a civilian home while the other is within a gatehouse on the outer walls of the city. The final one, however, is located at the primary barracks within Araphen, and of all the places besides the castle itself, that will be the most heavily guarded location. Unfortunately, underneath the switch also lies the entrance to the passageway.

"In that case," Drake said, "Gather everyone here, I have a plan."

A few moments later, outside a particular house Rath had pointed out, Serra and Erk were waiting for the signal. Erk was grumbling something along the lines of the _Manual of Escort's Responsibilities_ never mentioning what he was going through. That was swifly put to a stop as Serra tweaked his ear menacingly. Sighing with reluctance, he drew a fire tome from his bag and began to chant softly. Moments later, a merry blaze was licking hungrily below the second story window.

Taking a deep breath, Serra screamed, "FIIIIIIIIIIIIIRE!"

_They say that nothing can disturb the afternoon nap of any citizen in Araphen_, Drake thought as he observed the building churning out its residents, _I, however, beg to differ_. The said occupants, furious at the incident curtailing their beauty sleep and the small tendrils of flame lingering on their house, advanced furiously towards Serra. Civil tongues became a secondary requirement, as testified by the angry gestures and comments being exchanged. To her credit, Serra didn't second them anything, in which a verbal bout ensued.

"Well excuse you," she huffed, "My escort here was simply protecting me from a rude cad when he accidentally set fire to your house. No harm done right?"

Of course, no one noticed a small pegasus knight fly into the backyard and enter through the window, headed towards the basement.

_One down_, Drake noted as he saw Florina emerge safely and fly off with the musical chatter of furious voices still raging, _two more to go_.

Near the main gates of Araphen city, two dismounted cavaliers were lounging about underneath the shade of a tall tree. Despite the coup that was apparently underway at the castle, the two soldiers saw little reason to incorporate themselves within the conflict. Quick change of command, no change in pay, no change in food, therefore no change in attitude.

"Excuse me," a deep voice boomed, "Is this Araphen?"

One of the soldiers lazily opened an eye, "And why do you ask?"

"I come seeking the rest of my friends," the ax man said, "They said they'd meet me in Araphen."

"And you are?" the other soldier asked.

"Dorcas," came the reply, "Just a farmer from around Sacae."

"Bah," the first soldier waved his hand, "Be gone. Farmers don't have enough money to search for."

After Dorcas passed, the soldier turned over to his side and immediately sprang upright. His companion turned a queer look at him.

"Now what?"

"My shield!"

"What?"

"Someone stole my shield!"

"Ha, foolish knave," his companion roared with laughter, "When?"

"That's not funny, give it back."

"Give what back?"

"The shield of course."

"I already have my own," the soldier yawned, "Why would I want yours?"

"You have one?" His comrade looked over, "It's not over here."

"What? Hey, don't steal my shield because you lost yours!"

"Thieving, half baked excuse for a soldier!"

The two former comrades whirled upon one another angrily.

"Thief, eh? Have it at you!"

While the heated wrestling match between the two soldiers was attracting a crowd of curious onlookers, Matthew slipped down the tree on the opposite side from where the soldiers were brawling. Calmly replacing the two shields on their respective horses, he led the two beasts of burden inside the city where Kent and Sain were waiting with Dorcas.

"Two warhorses, complete with helm and shield delivered as ordered," Matthew drawled out.

"Did you manage to get into the gatehouse, Sain?" Kent asked.

"Sure did, pilfered two sets of armor as well," Sain said pointing to his overloaded horse, "No clue why Drake wants it though. Pshaw, and I thought Caelin armor needed better forging, look at the condition of this breastplate!"

"What is this about anyways?" Dorcas asked.

"You'll find out in a minute," Matthew said while thinking, _two down with only one to go, I hope Drake knows what he's doing_.

The half a dozen spearmen before the Araphen barracks couldn't believe their eyes. There in plain view, a nomad and two Araphen cavaliers were escorting a captive Sacaen girl. From her appearance, there could be no mistake that she was the missing Lyndis. Hurrying inside, one of the guards hurriedly reported to Boor, commander of the mercenaries.

"Lyndis, huh?" Boor grunted, "Excellent, our job is done then."

Coming outside, the ponderous knight nodded towards the nomad, "Much thanks, I'll take it from here."

"I think not," Rath replied, "As Captain of the Guard, it is my duty to see the prisoner to the marquis."

"But Lord Torson is at the castle," Boor said confusedly, "What are you doing at the barracks?"

"Simple," Rath said, "I'm leaving her in the dungeons under the supervision of these two behind me," he gestured towards the helmed cavaliers behind him.

"Why not just give her to me?" Boor asked, "I am the commander of the mercenaries after all."

"That's my promotion," Rath said, jerking his thumb at Lyn, "Why would I give her to you?"

With that, he dismounted and took Lyn into the barracks, followed closely by the two cavaliers on foot. Turning red with rage, Boor turned and crossly dug the butt of his lance into the ground. He couldn't argue with the Captain of the Guard, but he didn't want to see his bonus slip out of his hands either. A couple of minutes passed by before a young man dressed in a brown cloak ran full tilt around the corner and stopped panting heavily before the knight.

"D-did, did you see?" The youth wheezed, "Captain Rath anywhere?"

"He just went in," Boor said, pointing towards the barracks, "Why?"

"You just let him in? I'm an informant of Lord Torson, name's Matthew," Matthew screeched, "He has turned against Lord Torson and is aiding that Lyndis!"

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive," Matthew hacked, "Half a dozen of ours were cut down by their crew, and the survivors witnessed Rath helping her."

"Damn!" Boor raged, turning purple at being made a fool of, and stormed into the barracks. Behind him, Matthew turned and gave a thumbs-up signal.

Bewildered by the thief's action, one of the guards looked towards where Matthew was signaling. Squinting his eyes against the sun, he was rewarded by an arrow thudding into this thigh. His squawk of dismay was halted when Matthew pulled out a sword and stabbed the surprised spearman in the back. Hooting with laughter, Matthew sprinted off while chanting, "They fell for it! Hook, line, and sinker!"

Recovering from their shock, the remaining five spearmen charged after the elusive thief.

"Get him," one of them roared, "And his little sniping buddy too!"

"Hah, fool," another muttered, "He ran into a dead end."

Sure enough, Matthew had ran into a dead end and turned around at the end of the alley. The five pursuers smirked smugly before plugging the alleyway.

"Surrender, scum! Before I…" The soldier collapsed, with an arrow sticking out of his back.

One of his comrades turned and yelped with fear as Dorcas' fearsome ax smote him deeply in the shoulder. Realizing they had run into an ambush, the three remaining soldiers formed a triangle with all of them facing outwards. Unfortunately, they never noticed Florina diving down upon them until one of them perished beneath her lance. Screaming, one of them lunged towards Florina, but was felled by a blast of fire magic from behind. The last soldier, seeing himself quite alone amidst a group of enemies, quickly discarded his weapon and surrendered.

"Whew," Matthew said while wiping his brow, "Thought they had me for a second."

"You weren't supposed to stab the guy in the back," Drake observed drolly, "I thought you were just going to taunt them."

"I thought I'd get their attention better with the pointed end," Matthew said cheekily.

The soldier, who was hauled upright by Dorcas, gulped nervously as Matthew held a sword near his throat.

"Now, my friend," Drake began calmly, "I suggest you start speaking about Caelin's involvement, otherwise our friend Matthew here will have to extract information the old-fashioned way."

"A-and that is?"

"Why, torture of course."

"I-I swear, I d-don't know anything," the man babbled, "Only Boor is actually from Caelin. T-the others like myself, w-we're just mercenaries that Boor recruited. P-please, please don't kill me!"

"Florina, one question," Drake said while turning to Florina, "Do pegasi like meat raw or cooked?"

Missing Florina's scandalized blush, the captured mercenary fainted completely.

As he trudged through the barracks, Boor was seething with fury. As he passed through the first floor of the military facility, he silently vowed he would rend that miserable nomad apart piece by piece. Puzzled, he reached the dungeons but found the area deserted. Abruptly, he heard faint whisperings coming through the trapdoor that led to the foundations below. Clutching his lance, he descended clumsily down the stairs, and narrowly avoided being decapitated by a sword stroke.

Jabbing with his lance, Boor landed on the stone floor with a thud. Twirling his lance around him, he created a brief circle of protection around him as to buy him time to study the surroundings. The nomad and Lyndis were tinkering with some sort of device while the two cavaliers stood before him armed with swords.

"As Drake had promised," one of the helmed knights spoke, "Only the armored knight would come after us."

"And swords are better than lances in close combat," the other finished, "Long time no see, Boor."

"What?" Boor wondered, "How do you know me?"

"You forget us quickly," the first knight pulled off his helm, "Must have been brainwashed by Lundgren's lies."

"Sain!" Boor bellowed, "Then you must be…"

"Or by his gold," Kent said tugging off his helm, "You're right Sain, these Araphen helms do smell terrible."

"Not as filthy as the traitor I see before me," Sain replied.

Boor, frothing in anger, pounded towards the pair. Sain stepped to the left while Kent stepped to the right, catching Boor two powerful blows on the shoulder and the thigh. Screaming at the pain in his shoulder, Boor glanced at the cut.

"H-how?" The man gasped, "M-my armor cannot be penetrated so easily."

"Matthew was kind enough to obtain this for me from your armory," Sain said, tossing an armorslayer from hand-to-hand, "A bit unwieldy for normal combat, but perfectly suitable against ponderous knights such as yourself."

"Now perish," Kent growled, "As a traitor to House Caelin, you deserve no less."

"M-mercy," Boor begged on his knees, "Don't kill me! I'll do whatever you want."

"Coward," Lyn said as she kicked Boor from behind, who fell flat with a strangled cry, "Slaying you would only dirty my blade."

Rath, however, finished turning the rusted switch and pulled an arrow from his quiver. Gripping it tightly like a dagger, he bent down and stabbed the helpless knight in the back of the neck. Glancing up, he said softly, "As captain, my duty is to remove insurgents of Araphen. He led an armed uprising, punishable only with death."

Lyn sighed, "You're right, but Drake may have wanted to question the fool."

"What's done is done," Rath said, as if in apology, "Let's push on to the castle," he gestured towards the revealed passageway.

As they passed along the moldy tunnel, they could distinctly make out an argument that was steadily rising in volume from the other end.

"Where does this lead to?" Kent asked from the rear.

"It happens to lead directly behind the throne," Rath answered.

"What better place to ambush," Sain said.

"Quiet," Lyn said softly, "Listen."

"So brother, concede your defeat yet?"

"That would be Torson," Rath supplied.

"You with your peasant for a mother will never ascend the throne of Araphen!" Someone else snapped.

"I'd assume that's your lord," Lyn whispered, to which Rath nodded.

"How dare you," Lord Torson raged, "I forbid you from speaking of my mother in such a manner."

"You're nothing more than a bastard of Araphen, Torson," Marquis Araphen uttered in contempt, "Father was so ashamed of you that he refused to acknowledge you as a member of the household."

"Lies!"

"Its true," the marquis sneered, "And you had grand dreams of being in my place. I hail from the purest union between Araphen and Etruria, whilst you will never be more than a common brat!"

"Why you…" words failing his anger, Lord Torson pulled back to strike the marquis.

Quick as a snake, a hand emerged from the curtains behind the throne and clasped the arm inches before it made contact with the marquis' face. From behind the throne, Rath emerged with Lord Torson's arm tightly in hand, with Lyn and her retainers following.

"Ah, Rath," the marquis actually smiled slightly, "Excellent work, what a performance."

"My mercenaries will be here shortly," Lord Torson growled angrily.

"Your mercenary leader, Boor, is quite dead," Rath said emotionlessly.

"I still command this castle!"

"You command_ed_ this castle," Drake corrected as he opened the door, "They just lowered the drawbridge and surrendered unconditionally upon learning Boor has fallen."

"You coup has failed, dear brother," the marquis said mockingly, "Rath, take this man to the dungeons, I wish to speak with this girl."

After Rath left, the marquis looked Lyn up and down, "You are Marquis Caelin's granddaughter." The statement was not a question.

"Yes, my name is Lyndis," Lyn replied.

"You understand that my half-brother used your inheritance dispute as a method for attacking Araphen?" The marquis thundered.

"M-my apologies," Lyn stammered, "I had not known my granduncle capable of such an act."

"I had intended to aid the daughter of Lady Madelyn," the marquis continued, "But upon meeting this Lyndis, I retract my offer."

Kent sucked in a breath, "But, milord!"

"You failed to inform me that she has the tainted form of a Sacaen savage."

Lyn glanced sharply upward while Sain's hand drifted to his sword.

"Why, you!"

"Sain," Drake said warningly while looking at Sain. _We already have enough of an enemy in Lundgren_, that glance said, _do not increase our hassle by adding Araphen to the mix_.

"Furthermore," the marquis continued silkily, "Marquis Caelin is ill and may not even last long enough for you to reach Caelin. In that case, Lord Lundgren will become the next marquis, and I hardly need him as an enemy on the council!"

Lyn took a deep breath before looking the marquis in the eye, "I am proud of the blood that flows in my veins," if looks could kill, the marquis would be a pile of meat by now, "By Father Sky, I will not accept the assistance of one who blasphemes my heritage."

Turning stiffly on the heel, Lyn quitted the chamber followed closely by Kent and Sain. As Drake left the room, he saw out of the corner of his eye that another nomad was entering the marquis chamber. Smirking to himself, Drake situated himself along the hallway awaiting the next member of their mercenary group to emerge.

Lyn was still fuming as she left the castle accompanied by Kent and Sain. Sain was all for going back and knocking some sense into the marquis, but cooler heads prevailed.

"The marquis mentioned that my grandfather was ill," Lyn said, "We must press on to Caelin."

"We've been sorely tested as soon as we set foot upon Lycian soil," Kent said, "It'll only become more difficult from here on out. However, as your loyal retainer milady, I shall see this out to the end."

"As will I!" Sain added defiantly.

"It appears we will as well," Drake said, pointing to himself and Rath.

"Rath?" Lyn's eyes widened, "But, how?"

"I chanced to overhear your conversation with the marquis, and I shall serve him no longer," he replied, "I would be honored to join you."

At that moment, Serra popped up behind Lyn, "Excuse me, has anyone seen Matthew?"

"Hm?" Matthew asked, showing himself from behind Rath's horse, "What is it?"

"Where have you been all this time?"

"I've been inquiring information at the castle," he replied.

"The treasure room was very helpful," Drake said yawned.

"Indeed it was," Matthew said unconsciously, "Filled to the roof with gold and precious gems of all sorts, a thief's dream... Wait, what did I just say?"

"You didn't…" Kent began.

"He didn't what?" Sain asked.

"Treasure room, castle," Serra said counting on her fingers, "Gee, I wonder what you were up to…"

Matthew was sweating at this point, desperately looking for a way out.

"Tell you what," Drake said, yawning again, "We'll overlook this…"

"You will?" Matthew asked hopefully, "Sweet, I'll do anything!"

"What?" Everyone else exclaimed, incredulous at the mention of a reprieve.

"Provided you donate all your profits from here on out into Lyn's war funds," Drake finished as he plucked the bag of loot from Matthew's hands.

___That's all, read and review if you're able to! I apologize for the tardiness in the update frequency!_


	6. Rise of the Fang

_Author's Corner:_

_Several people noted that some of the battle descriptions in the beginning chapters were somewhat sketchy and not very detailed. Again, due to my personal biases, I considered the early 'skirmishes' as a pretty light affair. In my honest opinion, battles truly become 'battles' when Eliwood's story begins. However, I will take into your opinions to heart and try to overcome my bigotry. Thank you for informing me of my shortcomings._

_ And regarding dismounted cavaliers, think the stats of knights with the armor of a mercenary.  
_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 5**

**Rise of the Fang**

_April 3rd, a few miles from Kathelet,_

_Though we had prevailed through our struggles in Araphen handsomely, the ensuing battle there had raised doubts in my mind. Despite our triumph in battle, Lundgren was nevertheless able to hire mercenary units or even send Caelin forces to thwart Lyn's goal of reaching Caelin. From what Kent and Sain had reported, the leader of the insurgent militants was a knight from Caelin itself! As we approach Caelin, will we encounter more enemies from neighboring Lycian states or even the Caelin militia itself? How will this affect the morale of our 'army?'_

"We have arrived near the village of Kathelet, milady," Kent reported curtly, "We should be enter Caelin in roughly ten days."

"Assuming there are no more interruptions on the way," Lyn mused out loud.

As the group entered the village of Kathelet, Drake noticed the evidently subdued atmosphere throughout the town. Frowning, Drake filed that thought away for further research later. Currently, the primary objective was to find lodgings and, if possible, scout out the road ahead to see that Lundgren had not laid any further traps. Arriving at the local inn, Sain took the horses to the stables nearby while Kent entered to make arrangements for the night. _Matthew's gains, however illegitimate, would nonetheless go a long way on this journey_, Drake grinned.

"What are you smiling at?" Lyn asked as she sat down beside him.

"Nothing in particular," he replied, "Just the thought of Matthew volunteering his ill gotten gains."

"Hey, I heard that!"

Lyn laughed along with him, "I'm glad he was so willing to share."

"That or face the wrath of Serra," Drake reminded her, "Frankly, I believe he made the right choice." Lyn nodded before she left to find Florina.

Drake gazed at her retreating form. _Sometimes, I don't know what I'm doing in this situation_, he thought grimly, _I have destroyed the lives of others, but to repair the damage I've caused, I take even more lives. Bandits, mercenaries, the list seems to go on and on. Will this end with my passing?_ The light tap of shoes upon the cobblestone walkway interrupted his dark thoughts.

A young boy hurriedly turned the corner, panting for breath. He easily had the most unique appearance that Drake had seen in his life, teal colored hair with red eyes coupled with a scarf around his neck that nearly trailed to his knees. Glancing behind him, the boy's eyes widened as he saw a band of black robed men advancing towards him. In his haste to escape, he accidentally trod upon one end of the scarf and landed in a heap in front of Drake.

Seeing the youth's terrified gaze, Drake slowly helped him up before glancing at his pursuers, "How may I help you people?"

The men hesitated, as if unwilling to divulge their mission. At length, one of them, a masked soldier that Drake heavily suspected was a bandit from his crude weapons, advanced forward, "We want the boy."

"Really?" Drake said sarcastically, "I really couldn't tell from the way you were chasing him. Yet, from the unnatural terror on his face, I'd warrant you're not family nor any sort of guardian. In that case, why should I hand him over to you?"

The men hesitated further, several of them considering violence to wrest the youth back. Several of them put hands to their weapons.

"I wouldn't do that," Kent said, stepping out of the inn to stand behind Drake, his hand fingering his own sword as well, "Sain?"

"I'm here," Sain called out, emerging from behind the robed men, "What's the matter now?"

Several members of Lyn's party who were in the streets were staring at the confrontation now. Lyn herself left Florina's side and stood beside the boy in question.

"Hello," she greeted him softly, "My name is Lyn. Do you know what they want with you?"

The red-eyed youth gazed back before stammering, "M-my name is Nils, and they," his eyes suddenly sharpened and his voice lost its hesitation, "They took my sister, Ninian, and now they want me too!"

Drake raised an eyebrow and gave a meaningful look towards Rath and Dorcas while the masked soldier glared at Nils. "Look, woman," the soldier began, "If you don't want to get hurt, just hand the boy over and forget about this." Several of the robed men drew their weapons. Rath and Dorcas armed themselves and approached with Matthew tagging along.

"Let Ninian go!" Nils piped up, glaring at the robed men.

"Hmph, we have orders not to kill you, but no one said we couldn't beat the tar out of you before carting you back," the man replied before reaching for Nils. He was stopped by Lyn's sword.

"Release the boy's sister," Lyn growled.

"Foolish woman, getting killed for something that does not concern you," the man said menacingly, "Their lives are forfeit, but do not kill the boy."

"If you believe that we are easy prey, you are sorely mistaken," Lyn replied.

With a snarl, the robed warriors charged forward with their weapons drawn. Though they numbered only half a dozen, they operated with a degree of collectiveness and skill that Drake had not seen in the Araphen skirmish. Splitting up, the six fighters separated Lyn's group into individuals, spreading out Dorcas, Sain, Kent, and Matthew away from Lyn. Besides Lyn, the others only had to deal with one fighter, but the group intentionally pitted two swordsmen against Lyn. _Clever, _Drake thought, _pick on the 'weakest' member of the opposing party and swiftly bring them down. Afterwards, the two victorious fighters aid other fights and slowly gobble up our forces one by one. This is no unorganized pack of oafs we're dealing with here._ Two mercenaries closing in from two sides without question would defeat Lyn in a short amount of time.

Sain and Kent were tied down and could not aid their beleaguered lady. Dorcas was having enough trouble with his opponent while Matthew clashed furiously with the opposing mercenary. At such a close and crowded situation, Erk, Wil, and Rath couldn't haphazardly fire for fear of hitting their allies.

Rath however, was not prone to sit idly by while another Sacaen was in danger. Digging his heels into the flanks of his steed, he spurred the beast in between Lyn and one of the bandits before notching an arrow. Aiming the weapon at nearly point blank range, he successfully blunted the attack of the one of the foes, leaving Lyn free rein to deal with the other one. Lyn, with only one fighter on her hands, moved forward on the attack, driving her opponent back before a swift slash at the jugular terminated her opponent. Normally, Rath was at a disadvantage in close quarters combat since he was only armed with a bow, but the momentary distraction was all that was needed. The precious time he had procured enabled Florina to mount and come to his aid.

Lance and sword clashed as the mercenary desperately sought to keep the longer reaching weapon from spearing him into the ground. Unable to advance forward or hold his ground, there was little the robed man could do except keep taking steps backward. Florina, though somewhat timid in her approach to men, was quite stalwart when it came to defending her friends, Lyn in particular. Pressing her advantage, she honed in her blows, urging Huey forward step by step until she succeeded in her goal of pinning her opponent to the wall behind him. Instead of killing him, she had managed to only nail him by piercing the fabric of his dark cloak. Wil and Rath were instantly upon the pinioned man, and between the two of them, managed to wrest him to ground, dislodging Florina's lance in doing so.

Kent and Sain, seeing that their liege lord was no longer in danger, concentrated on their individual duels. After a few more passes, Kent thrust his blade clean through his antagonist's chest, dropping him where he was. Not to be outdone, Sain dispatched his opponent shortly afterwards, albeit with more finesse and a flourish afterwards that Drake suspected was merely a method of impressing the ladies of their party. Splitting up, they adopted the tactics of the robed men and aided their comrades. Dorcas, though having problems with his sword-wielding adversary, managed to land a crushing blow upon his enemy's shoulder after receiving some timely help from Sain. Meanwhile, Kent and Matthew were more than a match for the other one, finishing off the remaining soldier with relative ease.

As Serra tended the wounded, Drake and Lyn questioned the man that Florina had disabled. Held down by Rath and Wil, the captive was unable to harm anyone, though he made a commendable effort at holding his tongue.

"I heavily suspect that we'll be requiring Matthew's services again," Drake sighed.

"Services?" Lyn asked, "Ah, you mean his means of extracting information."

"Milady!" Nils yelled, "Watch out!"

Scarcely had Nils finished speaking, Drake grabbed Lyn's hand and pulled them both to the ground. Missing them only by the tiniest fraction, a dark ball of energy billowed past them and sank deep into the heart of their captive. Gasping out his final breath, the mysterious robed victim expired.

"What the hell?" Sain exclaimed, "Where did that come from?"

"There," Drake said from the ground where he covered Lyn, pointing to the second floor balcony of the house directly across the street.

What greeted their eyes was another robed man, though this one had a considerably more sinister air than the ones they faced earlier. Clutched in his hand was a tome of some sort while his gazed was fixed upon Nils.

Erk sucked in a breath, "A shaman…"

"Shaman?"

"Wielder of the dark arts," Drake explained, "And undoubtedly affiliated with the group that we just destroyed."

"Correct," the shaman said, grinning dangerously, "I am Heintz of the Black Fang. I have come to retrieve the boy."

_So that's where they looked familiar_, Drake thought, _I thought I had recognized their robes somewhere!_ He took stock of the possible reactions to the current foe. _We have the advantage in firepower thanks to Wil, Rath, and Erk_, he thought grimly, _but if we attack, the man has the opportunity to rain down destructive spells upon us. We're too tightly packed in this street to avoid damage. Looks like I'll have to divert his attention…_

"Black Fang, eh?" Drake said softly, but loud enough for Heintz to hear, "Then do you recognize this?" He drew forth an iron gauntlet from his knapsack and wore it on his left hand. The brilliant sunlight glittered off the well-polished armored glove, though it particularly caught the silver emblem upon its back.

Everyone turned to look at Drake, all wondering what the heck he was trying to do. _A well-made piece of armor, _Lyn thought, _but what's the emblem on the back of it? The reflected sunlight is too much for me to make out what it is._ Everyone else was as mystified as she was, but only the shaman was thunderstruck at the item. The tome dropped from his numb hands and clattered to the floor below.

"You!" He shouted in disbelief, "But, how? Why here?"

"Wil! Rath!" Drake roared, "Bring him down!"

Snapped out of their reverie, Wil fumbled for his bow while Rath notched another arrow and aimed at the shaman above. Leaving the balcony, Heintz backed away before looking directly across him into the second floor window of the inn. Terror filled him as he recognized the white robes of the man in that room and the incantation he was chanting.

"Servant of darkness," a voice intoned, "Harm not the children of the light!"

A brilliant white light erupted from the inn's window and struck Heintz in the face. To those who practice the dark arts, the power of darkness and shadow were their life and blood. Consequently, the strength of the light and holy magic were their undoing. Unable to fight off the piercing light that clung to him like a foul poison, Heintz perished in a sheet of white fire that seemed to ignite his dark robes.

"I wonder who was that?" Kent wondered as Sain tried to pick his jaw off the floor.

"That would be me," a young man said as he exited the inn. Dressed in the flowing white robes of a St. Elimine priest, his long blonde hair extending well past his shoulders, complete with a spell tome held lightly in his hand.

"Pardon me," the priest said, "I chanced to overhear the boy's story yesterday and wished to extend my aid. I am an acolyte of the Elimine Church by the name of Lucius."

"Of course," Lyn replied, "We're glad to have you."

"Do you know where your sister is?" Kent asked Nils.

"Yes! She is kept in a fortress to the south of this village."

"The old fortress?" Lucius smiled, "I used to explore there as a child and, as a result, know quite a few tricks to that place that I doubt even the kidnappers know about."

"In that case," Drake said, "Gather around, I have an idea…"

The tall fortress that once overlooked Kathelet's defenses had certainly seen better days. In bygone days, when Kathelet was in danger of invasion from bandits, its villagers would temporarily abandon the town, seeking shelter in the high walls of the fortress. Now, with peace gracing the surrounding countryside, the purpose of the fortress has long been forgotten by the descendents of those refugees. Though covered with ivy and moss, the walls remained sound, albeit cracked and splintered in a few areas. Its great doors still stood proud against the afternoon sun, though age has rendered its hinges rusty. This was the sight that greeted Kent and his detachment.

The southern face of the fortress stared back at them. According to Lucius, the fortress only contained one primary entrance facing the south. However, to the north, there was a small entryway that was partially blocked by fallen parts of the wall. When he was but a child, Lucius recalled he had uncovered a tiny path just large enough for a grown man to crawl under. That, according to Drake, was their ticket in.

"Well," Kent said, "We're in position."

"Do you have the parchment Drake gave you?" Sain asked.

Kent gave him a blank look, "I'm not you. I haven't lost it." Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out a rolled up parchment tied with a string. Kent was not unfamiliar with this method of giving out orders. Many armies, fearing that the walls have ears, were hesitant to give out military orders orally in the command tent. Instead, military commanders wrote out their commands and ordered their subordinates to open them on the field of combat.

"Then let's get going," Sain said grimly, "Lady Lyndis and Drake are counting on us."

Kent slowly unfurled the scroll and read out its contents to his listeners.

Atop the fortress, two guards were nodding out of boredom. Their commander, Heintz, had left several hours ago to retrieve the boy, leaving strict instructions to keep their eyes peeled during his absence. The minor technicality was that nothing ever happened here, so why bother with guard duty? Instead, guard duty was widely acknowledged as 'unofficial nap duty,' to the everlasting exasperation of Heintz and Beyard.

"You think they caught that intruder yet?" One asked in a bored tone.

"Maybe," his comrade yawned, "Then again, whoever he is, he's skill enough to take down several of the gang."

"Last I heard headcount was four?"

"Something like that… Ugh…"

His words were cut short by an arrow protruding out of his throat. His comrade gaped at the suddenness of the attack, before a second arrow struck him in the shoulder. As he dropped to one knee, he could see a nomad riding quickly into the trees. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out the arrow and shouted into the courtyard.

"Attack! We're under attack!"

Roughly an arrowshot distance from the walls, Sain clapped Wil and Rath on the back.

"Nice shooting! Now we relocate to where the others are waiting for us."

As an angry herd of Black Fang troops stormed out the southern entrance, a small boulder was shifted aside in the northern wall. First to crawl out was Matthew, who gave a quick glance to the right and left before signaling the others to follow. In a few moments, Lyn, Lucius, Drake, and Nils emerged from the makeshift tunnel.

"Alright, we're in," Matthew said as he made sure there was no one in their immediate area, "Lucius, where're the dungeons?"

Nils paled at Matthew's words, but Drake swatted Matthew on the head, "Lucius, ignore him. Is there a place that can provide lodgings for a noble of some sort?"

Lucius was confused, "Yes, at the highest level of the keep, but why would you want to go there?"

"Because," Drake explained dryly, "Whoever is in command of these idiots evidently wants Nils and his sister alive. Now which incompetent subordinate would keep a frail lady in the dungeons where she stands little or no chance of surviving?"

"Well, that might explain a lot."

"Who's there?" Lyn barked as she drew her sword.

"Peace, I mean you no harm," a young man said as he stepped out from around the corner. From his fiery red hair to his azure clothing, Drake could tell that this was no bandit, and from his poise and manner of speaking, he was no country bumpkin.

"I am Eliwood of Pherae. My father is the marquis."

Lyn started while Matthew quickly tried to hide behind Drake. _So he's the son of the marquis_, Lyn thought.

"I chanced to see her enter this area with a band of ruffians. I managed to infiltrate this area using the same route you did," Eliwood said with a grin, "I thought to rescue her before further harm could befall her. However, when I found my way to the dungeons, there was no one there. Hearing your explanation certainly cleared my confusion. Sir…?"

"Drake," the tactician replied, "Just Drake."

"I am Lyn, granddaughter of Marquis Caelin."

"Marquis Caelin?" Eliwood asked in surprise.

"Excuse me," Drake interposed, "I'm sure the formalities can be exchanged later, but we do have a hostage to rescue."

"You're right," Lyn agreed, "Lucius?"

"Follow me," the priest hurried down the halls with the others in tow.

As they were passing along the halls, Eliwood was amazed at the emptiness of the various chambers. Mystified, he asked Lyn how come the fortress was so deserted.

"When I first entered, this area was packed with foes, forcing me to fight in several discreet instances," he said, "How is it that there are no enemies now?"

Lyn smiled before answering, "Drake came up with a little ruse to lead the guards on a wild goose chase outside."

Eliwood's eyes widened before looking at the tactician ahead with respect mingled in his gaze. It was no lean feat to lure out so many of the enemy.

"Might I enquire how you managed to do this?" Eliwood asked.

"Hit and run," Drake replied without looking back, "The garrison here does not know how small our force is compared to theirs, and there lies our advantage. By sniping their guards, our force outside dares the Black Fang troops within to exit the fortress and hunt down our archers. Once they come out, all our diversionary force has to do is occasionally fire a shot or spell into their midst to encourage the maddened pursuers to continue their search. Lucius had mentioned that there were no stables in this fortress, meaning a lack of cavalry. Given that, since our diversionary detachment has the advantage in mobility…"

"They'll never catch them," Eliwood finished.

"Which buys us the time to extract Nils' sister and make our escape," Lyn added.

"Sh!" Matthew held up a finger to his mouth, "I can hear voices…"

Around the corner, two mercenaries were conversing outside a large door. Lucius pointed at the room and nodded, signifying that was their target.

"Have they found the invaders yet?" One of them roared.

"N-not yet, Sir Beyard," the other stammered.

"Then tell those brats outside to hurry it up!" Beyard said angrily, "How long does it take to hunt down the meddling pests?"

"Sir Beyard, hasn't it been a little too long since Heintz has gone?"

"Hm, that is true. Chances are that he has failed to bring back the boy. How, I cannot guess, but if we don't bring back the girl, then the Fang's justice will fall upon us," Beyard warned.

The other mercenary gulped.

"Here," Beyard tossed a ring up in the air, "I took this from the girl, take it to the treasure room."

Drake leaned over to whisper something in Matthew's ear, at which Matthew nodded but whispered something back. Drake sighed as he put a hand to his forehead, "And yes, feel free to loot the place as you see fit."

Matthew was out of the earshot before Drake could finish his sentence. Eliwood's attention, however, was still on Beyard.

"Heh, fool," Beyard grinned lecherously, "Now that you're out of the way, a certain defenseless girl is alone inside…"

Eliwood had heard enough. Unsheathing the rapier by his side, he was around the corner and upon the astonished Beyard before the latter could draw his sword. Unfortunately, in his haste, Eliwood had mistimed the blow, missing the mercenary by a hair and embedding his weapon in the thick door behind Beyard.

Extracting the weapon was but a work of a moment, but that precious second gave Beyard the time to draw his own broadsword. With a yell, the mercenary countered, swinging a powerful horizontal blow towards Eliwood. Parrying, Eliwood delivered a lightning slash aimed at his opponent's face. Recoiling backwards, Beyard was only wounded on the cheek before charging the noble again. Back and forth the two clashed, each time yielding a neutral result. Lyn was about to aid Eliwood when Drake put a hand on her shoulder.

"Drake?"

"Watch, Lyn," Drake said softly, "And understand how Eliwood will win this battle."

Redirecting her gaze at the combatants before her, Lyn suddenly realized something. _Beyard is slowing down,_ she realized, _even though Eliwood hasn't landed a telling blow yet_. Looking back at Drake, she asked him about her observation.

"Correct," Drake said, "Notice that Eliwood is using a rapier, a sword not commonly used in Sacae. Sacae is more famous for the durable katanas, whereas most knights fight with the broadsword, the weapon the mercenary is using. However, the rapier, a light and swift weapon, overcomes its lack of power with its incredible speed. A broadsword is a clumsy tool to combat the snake-like stab of a rapier."

Sure enough, Beyard was unable to keep pace with the noble's quick strikes. Putting all of his remaining strength into one last blow, Beyard charged forward with his blade held overhead, hoping to finish the battle in one instant. At that moment, he was staggered by the strain of combat, slowing down his reaction for a few short second. One second was all that Eliwood needed, and a swift stab through the heart yielded Eliwood the victory.

"Killing with the point lacks finesse," Drake commented, "But that shouldn't make you hold back a finishing touch."

Eliwood started at Drake's words. _How could he know that? Only nobles taught by the masters of the sword would know that litany, _Eliwood wondered, _so who is this man that is known as Drake?_

"Anyways, the threat is removed," Lyn said, "Nils, let's hurry to Ninian."

Nils needed no further encouragement as he burst through the double doors to where Ninian was.

"Ninian!" Nils cried out, seeing her stretched out on a bed.

"She is only unconscious," Lucius said after taking her pulse.

"Thank goodness," Nils said thankfully.

"We, however," Drake said as the sounds of running feet reached their ears, "Have a problem on our hands."

Matthew charged into the room breathing heavily, "I-I've got it, Drake. S-some of the guards are returning, and are headed here now!"

"We don't have the numbers to fight our way out," Lucius said worriedly.

"And we have an unconscious lady to look after," Eliwood pointed out.

"I'm not abandoning Ninina," Nils said defiantly.

"Of course not," Eliwood replied, "I'm just pointing out the facts."

Lyn could see Drake was thinking furiously from the way he was chewing his bottom lip slightly, "Drake…"

Drake's eyes lighted up with a mischievous air, "We're going to pull the Araphen routine on them. Lyn, hold your sword against the sun from the balcony. We're going to need Florina for this."

Outside, a dozen soldiers trudged wearily to where Ninian's room was. They had unsuccessfully tried to locate the mysterious attackers, and were dreading Beyard's reaction to their failure. He had not been particularly forgiving towards past mistakes, and the soldiers would be glad to get out of this with only a scathing lecture. The soldiers stopped before the double doors that led to Ninian's room and frowned. Usually Beyard was here, making sure that no one approached the girl.

"Hey, Beyard," one of them called out, "Where are you?"

No one replied, though a faint rustling sound could be heard on the other side of the doors.

"Where do you think he went?"

"Inside maybe? Should we take a look?"

"Don't be stupid," one of them barked, "He'll have our heads if we entered!"

"Just a peek, make sure everything is shipshape."

With that said, one of the men shifted the door open before squinting through the crack. He was just in time to see a pegasus knight helping a teal-haired person wrapped in a brown cloak onto her mount.

"Oh, crap," he swore, "They're taking her away!"

"What?"

The soldiers burst through the door just when the pegasus dived off the balcony, carrying knight and passenger away from the keep. Swearing the soldiers doubled back down the keep, calling for their comrades to pursue the pegasus. In a few short moments, the fortress was deserted once more.

"How's that for audacity?"

"I have to hand it to you Drake," Matthew said crawling out from under the bed, "You've got nerves of steel."

"Do you think Florina and Nils will be alright?" Lyn asked.

"They'll be fine," Drake replied, "We'll meet up with them and the rest of our group at Kathelet."

Eliwood was situated behind the doors supporting Ninian. When the soldiers opened the doors in their haste, they had conveniently neglected to check the room for any intruders. Now that they were gone, everyone emerged from their respective hiding places.

"But how do we get out?" Lucius asked, "With the lady still unconscious, we can't exit through the tunnel any more."

"We won't have to," Drake said confidently, "We're going out the main gate."

"What?" Everyone looked flabbergasted.

"Err, isn't that slightly insane?" Matthew ventured.

Drake smirked slightly, "And who's going to stop us?"

"There won't be any guards," Lyn realized, "The only person here worth guarding was Ninian, and now that they assumed Ninian was taken away, the entire fortress would be emptied to retrieve her. Didn't that Beyard say that they would be in deep trouble if they lost Ninian?"

"Precisely."

A few hours later, with the Black Fang pursuers hopelessly confused and lost, Lyn and her group arrived back at Kathelet with Ninian safe amongst them. Serra took Ninian off of Eliwood's hands and took her to the inn, followed every step of the way by Nils. This gave Lyn the opportunity to fully explain her situation to Eliwood.

"I see, so that's why Caelin was acting differently recently," he nodded.

"I'm sorry, it may be too far fetched to believe," Lyn trailed off.

"No, no, I believe you," Eliwood replied before smiling at Lyn's stunned expression, "I've met your grandfather, Marquis Caelin before, and you bear a striking facial resemblance."

"You've met…"

"Pherae and Caelin have long held an easy friendship in the past," he explained, "And I believe that the proud nomads of Sacae tell no lies, is that not true?"

Lyn smiled wanly, "It is just so unbelievable that a Lycian noble can so readily believe a nomad like myself."

"Do you have any difficulties that I can help you with?"

"I thank you for your kind offer, but I must face my own trials."

"As you wish," Eliwood replied, "I'll be in Kathelet awaiting a friend for a few more days. If you need anything…"

"I'll be sure to ask. Thank you, Eliwood."

"What are friends for?" Eliwood smiled before taking his leave.

Shortly after Eliwood left, Lyn gathered Drake and went inside the inn to visit Ninian. From Serra's diagnosis, the young girl would be awake shortly after a good rest. Her words validated her skill, as Lyn perceived Ninian was wide-awake chatting with Nils. Ninian looked startled to see two strangers enter the room, but Nils calmed her.

"It's alright, these people helped us get away from them."

"And they are…?"

"I am Lyn, and I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Drake, a wandering tactician."

"I thank you, milady, for going to the trouble of helping my brother and I," Ninian bowed her head, "We are traveling performers, my brother being a musician and I, well, I'm a dancer."

Drake raised an eyebrow, "We would be better off if Sain did not know that."

Lyn giggled at that, "Point taken, Drake. Yet Ninian, your clothes are not that of a typical dancer…"

"Ninian's dances are special, almost like a sacred dance," Nils explained.

"I see," Lyn nodded.

"I would be able to show you, milady," Ninian said sadly, "But I injured my ankle when I was abducted, and as a result..."

"It is alright," Lyn said, gently patting Ninian on the back, "I'm just glad that you're safe and unharmed."

"Thank you, milady," Ninian said with a smile, which was exchanged for a frown when she looked at her left hand, "Oh…"

"What is it?" Nils asked.

"My ring, it's gone…"

"What? Ninis' Grace? They took it?" Nils exclaimed, "It was a keepsake of our mother."

"T-there's nothing we can do," Ninian said chokingly, "At least we are safe…"

"It wouldn't happen to look like this, would it?" Drake said as he fished out a ring from his pocket before holding it up to the light.

Nils' jaw dropped, Ninian just stared, and Lyn tried to mask a smile behind her hand.

"B-but, h-h-how?" Nils stammered.

Ninian took the ring from Drake and looked at it, "It is Ninis' Grace, how did you manage to retrieve it?"

Drake grimaced, "Well, we chanced to hear about someone taking your ring, and Matthew was sent to 'retrieve' it. Though I heavily suspect that he helped himself to an indecent amount of money in the Black Fang treasury." Lyn laughed, recalling the last time Matthew had helped himself to someone else's coffers.

"Thank you," Ninian said with tears in her eyes, "I cannot thank you enough for this."

"It is nothing," Lyn replied, "Though I am worried about your leg, can you travel on it?"

"Um," Nils hesitated, "I was wondering if we could travel with you."

Drake and Lyn exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing. _That's akin to jumping out of the frying pan into the fire_, they thought, _although they're being pursued, coming with us means there are two groups of assassins after them!_

Missing the glance, Nils continued, "We won't be a hindrance, we can even be of some assistance!"

"When someone or something hostile approaches, we can sense their presence," Ninian explained.

"That'd certainly explain how you warned us about Heintz' attack," Lyn reasoned.

Drake sighed. The tactician inside him told him to bring them along, but the human inside him told him bring them would endanger them even more. _Then it is Lyn's decision_, he thought, _I will abide by her decision._

Lyn looked at Ninian and Nils, "Are you sure you want to come with us!"

"Yes!"

"Then we welcome you among us," Lyn said with a smile.

_Argh, this did not turn out the way I wanted it to. Hopefully this wasn't so terrible that it changed your opinion of this fiction entirely. Read and review if you have the time!_


	7. Throne of Caelin

_Author's Corner:_

_Well, Lyn's Tale is just about completed, and finally I can move on to the actual 'meat' of the story. I considered Lyn's portion of the story more like an extended prologue, and as such, didn't dedicate as much time towards actual combat. However, when Hector/Eliwood's respective parts begin, I'll be proportioning more and more towards brawny armies slugging at each other (just kidding). ;_

_Once again, I humbly thank all who reviewed. Sometimes, it is hard for a review to imagine how good it feels for a writer to read what other people think of his or her writing. (But it does help; review to save the sanity of writers!)_

_**DotDotDotMan** – Concerning the armor that Drake has with him, there are probably very few people in Lycia who actually know the significance of the sigil. It serves more as a preview of what is to come. And concerning Hector's existence, I know he is there in the game, but there wasn't a suitable way I could introduce him properly. I was testing the waters in the manner of introducing Eliwood, and wasn't sure how I would write about Hector. You'll see him later anyways. _

_**Lao Who Mai **– I have toyed with the idea of a Tactician/Lyn pairing in the past, and I'm not sure (though it's highly doubtful) whether to input such a pairing in this fiction. Considering Drake's resume, I believe Lyn would be more likely to split him in two than fall in love. Then again, who knows?_

_**Paladin2007** – I will probably tweak the storyline in Hector/Eliwood's parts as well. For those of you who have played Fire Emblem: The Sealed Sword (FE6), you'll probably recognize a few elements from there as well._

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 6**

**Throne of Caelin**

_April 10th, a week after we picked up Nils and Ninian,_

_We have progressed with fair speed along the path to Caelin, given that we have marched nearly unchallenged since the Kathelet skirmish. What puzzles me is the lack of action on Lundgren's part. What could he be thinking? As time passes on and we inch closer and closer to our goal, Lundgren has failed to send any sort of sortie against us. Two explanations are possible, one being he is absolutely unable to counter us, or second, that he is baiting us into a trap. Naturally, the latter is considerably more probable than the former. However, according to Kent, one probable military obstacle will bar our path: General Eagler and his seasoned Caelin veterans. There is another possibility that I've not breached, but that will be left to Eliwood in Kathelet._

"We're a days march from General Eagler's estate, milady," Kent reported.

"Are we on schedule?" Lyn inquired.

"Yes, milady," Sain replied, "General Eagler is located a mere two days march from Caelin itself. If the general understands our situation, we'll be at Caelin in no time."

"And then, Lundgren!" Wil exclaimed.

Florina was hiding behind Lyn as usual, but she flashed an encouraging smile at Lyn. Feeling somewhat optimistic at her friends' encouraging words, Lyn smiled herself, but that quickly vanished when she heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. The mirth dispelled by possible danger, the group armed themselves and prepared to face whoever was coming. The figure that popped around the dense forestry was none other than Matthew. Sighing with audible relief, the mercenaries turned back to what they were doing. Ninian and Nils, exhausted after their many months on the run, were asleep under the watchful eyes of Dorcas and Rath.

"Matthew, you almost scared us half to death!" Serra squealed.

"As if you didn't already freak us to death," Erk muttered.

"What was that?"

"N-nothing," he stammered.

Serra glared at Erk, evidently not believing his words, but decided to let the matter slide. Lyn covered her grin as she found herself looking for her tactician. _He has certainly been oddly quiet, _Lyn thought as her eyes found him; _I wonder what's on his mind, and what was that mysterious bundle he had handed to Eliwood._ When Lyndis' Legion, as Wil had called the ragged band of mercenaries, had left Kathelet, Drake had spoke with Eliwood alone for several minutes before leaving a wrapped parcel with some sort of note attached. Recalling Eliwood's shocked expression, Lyn could barely hold back her rising curiosity regarding Drake's actions.

Taking a few deep breaths, Matthew began, "I'm afraid that this is not the time to be sitting here idly."

Catching the warning tone in Matthew's voice, Lyn turned, "What is it?"

"I have just finished fishing for rumors at the neighboring villages," Matthew said, "And I have uncovered some rather interesting news. Apparently, an imposter styling herself the heir of Caelin have joined with two rogue knights and are seeking to overthrow the stability within Caelin."

Kent was mystified, "What? We would've known about… Oh, no…"

"You got it," Matthew said grimly, "Lundgren has proclaimed Lady Lyndis as an imposter and is seeking to undermine her claim. Apparently, Lundgren isn't too popular with the common folk, so they aren't as much under his sway."

"So what's the problem?" Sain asked.

"The problem," Matthew explained, "Is that Lundgren has managed to persuade the _military_ elements within Caelin. Furthermore, he has called upon the aid of neighboring Lycian states Laus, Tuscana, Santaruz, Tania, and Kathelet to come rid Caelin of this imposter."

Stunned silence greeted Matthew's words. Everyone here knew that their cause was finished if they had to deal with the armies of neighboring states as well as Caelin's military. _There would be no way for Lyn to reach Caelin alive, _everyone thought as approaching hooves broke the spell of silence.

Drake spoke for the first time, as if expecting the new arrival, "Greetings, Lord Eliwood of Pherae."

That obtained everyone's attention, as the group turned as one to look at Eliwood. He had evidently ridden many miles to catch up with Lyn's forces, his horse beaded with sweat and several droplets hanging from his brow. Cracking a smile at Drake, Eliwood approached the tactician.

"I wish that you will one day come in service of Pherae, Drake," Eliwood said, "Your foresight in military matters is simply incredible."

Confusion playing on her face, Lyn asked what was on everyone's minds, "What are the two of you talking about?"

"Simply this," Eliwood grinned, "Laus, Tuscana, Santaruz, Tania, and Kathelet will not come to the aid of Caelin in regards to this inheritance dispute."

If Matthew's words had stunned the group into silence, Eliwood's words held them spellbound. For a long five seconds, everyone, barring Drake, Eliwood, and the sleeping siblings, could only gape in surprise. Lyn was the first to recover her wits.

"This certainly is a pleasant surprise. Eliwood," Lyn said with a smile, "I don't know how to thank you."

Eliwood laughed, "Don't thank me, Drake deserves the thanks. I wouldn't have made it in time had he not told me in advance."

Lyn blinked, "You don't mean, that parcel in Kathelet…"

"Explained everything that would happen today," Eliwood finished.

"In the event that Lyn had passed into Caelin's territory unharmed," Drake recited from memory, "Lundgren will inevitably call upon the aid of Caelin's neighbors Laus, Tuscana, Santaruz, Tania, and Kathelet. Of these five provinces, Kathelet is the only one with almost no militia to call upon, eliminating any threat from there. Araphen, who although does not favor Lyn, will evidently recall its respect of the late Lady Madelyn, and will hold its neighbors Tuscana and Tania from aiding Caelin. Santaruz, with its long-standing friendship with Pherae, will not move if Lord Eliwood voices his support for Lyn. Finally, Laus can be placated by Lycian Covenant."

"Lycian Covenant?"

"It is the founding principle of the Lycian Council," Eliwood explained, "When the Council was first established with Ostia as its head, the various nobles agreed upon a set of rules to prevent total chaos. One of them was instituted to prevent nosy states from interfering with the private affairs of other nobles. Caelin's inheritance dispute falls under this category."

"Incredible," Lyn said, her voice filled with awe, "That leaves us with only Caelin to deal with."

"Exactly," Eliwood said, "Unfortunately, the Covenant's decree also disallows me from aiding you any further. I will, however, pray for your success as a friend."

"A thousand blessings upon you for your aid," Lyn replied.

Eliwood smiled briefly before mounting his horse, "I'll be Kathelet honing my skills with a friend before departing for Pherae. Good luck and god speed on your quest."

Moments after Eliwood left, a thick morning fog blanketed the valley surrounding Lyn and her companions. Possibly buffeted by the tidal winds, a dense fog usually shrouded the midmornings of the areas north of Badon, and Caelin was no exception. The thick white layer shrouded their immediate surroundings, and even Matthew could scarcely see a dozen feet ahead of him.

Drake fidgeted slightly as he gazed into the areas around him. A lack of reconnaissance was a tactician's nightmare, since one could never tell when hostile forces will charge out of the gloom into their midst. Ominously, somewhere ahead of them, a strange clanking sound could be heard. The noise faded as whoever was moving around abruptly stopped as something was lit a few dozen yards ahead of them.

"Hey Drake, what's the problem?" Sain called out.

"Silence fool!" Drake hissed, "Everyone speak only in whispers!"

The damage was already done, as the mysterious clanking started again. Suddenly, Ninian and Nils both stopped and yelled towards Lyn.

"Milady! Don't move!"

Scarcely had the words left their lips when three gigantic arrow bolts thudded into the ground around Lyn. Unable to ascertain where the shots came from, pandemonium reigned unchecked until Drake asserted control.

"Into the trees," Drake barked, "On the double!"

As Lyn and her friends hurried beneath the relative safety of the forests, several more bolts shattered the earth in the clearing where they once stood. Had they not moved into cover, one of those could have been potentially fatal.

"What, what were those?" Serra whispered.

"Ballista…" Sain whispered back, "Long range siege weapon."

"To deploy these," Kent mused, "Lundgren must be getting desperate."

"But how do they have such accuracy?" Rath asked, "Even I have difficulty seeing in this weather, but these long range weapons nearly pinpointed our location."

Kent and Sain shrugged, signaling their confusion as well. Drake signed before mumbling about rudimentary combat tactics.

"Ballistics, or any long range weaponry are never aimed by the actual archer firing the weapon," Drake explained to the huddled group around him, "Instead, the attack is a fusion of three well trained practitioners. They are the archer, the spotter, and the flag master. The archer, needless to say, manipulates the weapon, changing the angle at which the weapon is fired. The spotter pinpoints the location of the enemy and relays this information to the flag master. The flag master in turn relays the location to the ballista crew(s), however many there are. The crews, upon learning of the location, volley at the same time in the general area the spotter pinpointed."

"We're in a dense fog," Sain pointed out, "How can the flag master see the spotter's location?"

"You nincompoop," Drake said, "Spotter's use torches! The flag master, probably situated above on one of these mountains, commands the view of the entire valley surrounding us all the way to General Eagler's estate. The spotter usually situated quite close to the enemy, lights a flare and shows approximately where the enemy is located. Seeing the signal, the flag master relays the information with a complicated pattern of different colored flags. After that is done, ballista fires, arrow flies, enemy dies."

"So how do we get rid of the ballista crews?" Matthew asked.

"We don't remove the crews, we go after the spotter instead."

"But how do we find…" Matthew's eyes brightened, "I get it, the spotter is relatively close to us. Once we find him, there's no need to worry about the ballista any more!"

Rath grunted, "There's no need to search for the spotter."

"And why is that?"

"Because he is literally on our doorstep," Drake said mysteriously, "Right, yonder knight behind the tree?"

At those words, a low chuckle rang throughout the forest around them. Sure enough, a heavily armored knight bearing a mighty lance stepped out of the shadows.

"That is the first time some youth wet behind the ears located me," the knight rumbled, "How did you find me?"

"The flare," Rath said before Drake could respond, "The flare gave away your approximate location, then all a seasoned tracker needed to do was gauge your location based on the excessive clanking of your heavy armor."

"What he said," Drake said, pointing at Rath.

"Well done," the knight growled while unhinging his helmet and showing his face to Lyn's war party.

At the sight of his face, Sain and Kent bolted upright, a nervous expression searing their face. The knight was a bald, aging soldier, with a chiseled expression akin to a stone statue. Neither Lyn nor Drake saw anything out of ordinary with the knight, so they both looked at Sain or Kent for an explanation.

"G-General Wallace," Sain stammered. _And when was the last time we saw Sain lose his composure? _Lyn thought to herself.

"I thought you had retired from the military," Kent blurted out. _And when was the last time we saw Kent speaking so rapidly? _Drake thought before looking at Lyn. _This is no ordinary Caelin knight we're dealing with here, _they both thought in unison.

"Indeed I was," Wallace replied gruffly, "My retirement was curtailed when Lundgren ordered me to apprehend an imposter and a pair of rogue knights. I believe the description he gave fits the two of you."

"Do you believe us to be false knights?"

"Bring the girl before me," Wallace said, without regard for Kent's inquiry.

"And what would you do with her?" Sain said as he put a hand to his sword.

"Hmph," Wallace growled with a predatory smile, "Do you seek to stop me? I can thrash the both of you with one hand tied behind my back."

"Enough," Lyn interrupted, putting a hand on Sain's shoulder, "I am Lyndis, what do you want from me?"

Wallace was about to speak, then stopped and did a double take, "Such resemblance…"

"Excuse me?"

"You are indeed the spitting image of Lady Madelyn in her youth, albeit with a passionate flame worn outside rather than within like your mother. That I attribute to your father and your upbringing," Wallace was mumbling, apparently not noticing that he was doing so out loud.

Lyn flinched before putting a hand to her sword. Ever since the Araphen meeting, she had become extremely defensive around people who defamed her heritage. Wallace's next words, however, came as an unexpected surprise.

"Ha, I like you, girl!" Wallace announced, "I will actually join your band of mercenaries."

Lyn blinked, "Err… What?"

"I pledged my life's service to House Caelin," Wallace growled, "And I would never see a usurper on the throne. What are my orders? Let's move out!"

"In that case," Drake said calmly, "Come with me, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Eagler's defenses."

As Drake and Wallace trudged off going over military tactics, Sain whistled, "Old Wallace is as dependable as ever."

"That he is," Kent said.

After a brief conversation with Wallace, Drake sent Wallace off with his orders before returning to Lyn.

"What have you learned, Drake?" Lyn asked.

"Eagler will not be a pushover like the others we have faced," Drake answered, looking into the fog, "However, we may be able to exploit a few small advantages."

"Such as?"

"Overconfidence and military efficiency," Drake continued, "The former a well known fault, the latter a blessing in disguise. Eagler was too arrogant in thinking that his ballista force would be competent enough to wipe us out. Nevertheless, he still commands considerable forces at his estate. Fortunately for us, we are already equipped to remove them with a small trick or two. Come, call to arms and prepare to sortie."

"That's something you haven't said before," Lyn said.

"In Etruria, that is the standard command for rallying the troops for battle," Drake explained, and then paused when he noticed Lyn's hesitation, "Do you trust me in battle?"

There was no hesitation this time, "With my life."

"Then let's go," Drake said, inwardly cringing as he moved into the fog. _You may trust me explicitly, Lyn, but what have I ever done to warrant such trust?_

After scattering the pickets Eagler had set around his domain, Lyn and her companions advanced steadily towards Eagler's estate itself. Mystified at the lack of resistance, Lyn caught up with Drake bursting with questions.

"Uh, Drake?"

"You're going to ask me why we haven't met any foes." That was not a question, but a statement of fact.

Lyn gazed at him, "And how did you know I was going to ask that?"

"Because Erk just asked me that several minutes ago," Drake smirked.

Lyn laughed lightly, "And the answer is?"

"Eagler isn't expecting us to charge his headquarters," Drake explained, "I had toyed with this possibility in my mind, and Wallace's words confirmed it. His plan was to use the ballista to wipe us out, and, in the event we discovered the ballista, heavily fortify the ballista platforms with troops to finish us off. What he didn't calculate is the possibility that we'd ignore the ballista and charge directly for his lair. Hence why we only had to deal with his perimeter guards. The real fighting will start soon."

"Overconfident, eh?"

"Indeed, the first fault that yielded us the advantage, the second fault will grant us victory."

"Look there!" Matthew called out.

Out of the fog loomed a sprawling chateau, complete with wooden walls surrounding the stone embankment. Inside, an alarm bell could be heard clanging, signaling the guards to meet Lyn's party. Bursting from the gates were nearly half a dozen cavaliers and a full squad of spearmen. Filing out behind this regiment were several archers, led by a mounted commander that could be none other than Eagler himself. Lyn looked slightly unsettled at their opponent's numbers.

"How can we hold back their charge?" She asked Drake.

Drake made no reply, but pointed at the opposing force and barking out a few orders. Around him, Kent, Sain, Dorcas, Florina, and Matthew rallied into a rough battle line with Serra, Erk, Rath, Lucius, and Wil tucked behind them. Nonetheless, it was clear that when Eagler's forces attacked, sheer numbers would overwhelm Lyn and her friends. Drake could almost see the smug look of glee upon Eagler's face.

With a howl, Eagler drove his men forward. The classic battle formations popular throughout Elibe ordained that the cavaliers would charge first, disrupting the enemy formations and inflicting first blood. After their charge had been blunted, the infantry would follow up and finish the job if it could. Eagler, however, confident in his victory, had unleashed all his men upon his numerically inferior enemy. Himself in the lead, Eagler's force stampeded like a frenzied mob towards where Lyn was situated.

Drake's smirk darkened into a terrible smile, "Finish them, Wallace."

Abruptly, a torch was applied to the ground, where a cleverly hidden chain of other torches was placed. Lighting from one end to another, the flares formed a little line that split the field of battle. Laughing at the pathetic wall of flame that rose no higher than their knees, Eagler's men rushed forward without a second thought.

Eagler, on the other hand, realized the danger just as he stepped over flaming line, "Damn it! Back you fools!"

Faster than his words, a hail of ballista bolts rained down upon his unsuspecting regiment, decimating their numbers. Caught unawares, man and beast alike were speared to the earth by the falling spears. Several of the wounded, pierced by the gigantic weapons but not embracing death yet, screamed for mercy. Eagler himself was unhorsed as an ill-placed bolt slew his horse in mid stride. Tumbling to the damp earth, surrounded by his dead and dying men, he struggled to his feet.

"You have crossed the line of fire," a voice intoned, "And you of all people should've known that your well-trained ballista forces know to empty their payloads under the red flag."

The line of fire, commonly called the line of death, was a well-known tactic throughout Elibe. When a spotter drew a flaming line upon the ground, the flag master used a special flag to signal the ballista crews: the red flag of death. Eagler, in his haste, had not expected _his _spotter to place such a line beneath _his _forces.

"W-Wallace?" Eagler gasped, "B-but why?"

"You have betrayed Caelin," came the cold reply, "You know that Lundgren is not the heir, as do I. I have chosen to follow the true heir of Caelin. You who support the usurper must die as a traitor to his land."

Eagler seemed stunned for a moment, his eyes vacant, "You are right, I am a dishonorable knight. Even with my family held hostage by Lundgren, I should've fulfilled my duty to House Caelin. In my weakness, I failed the marquis."

Drawing his own sword from the sheath, Eagler smote himself in the neck, allowing his blood to flow freely, "P-pun… P-punishment for traitors is death! Go Wallace! S-save the marquis! H-he… He, knows not… Of the… P-poi… S-son…"

Wallace stood over the fallen body of his one-time comrade. Kneeling heavily, he closed Eagler's eyes before leaving to rejoin Lyn's group.

_Two Days Later…_

"We have made a record time arriving at Caelin," Drake observed.

"I just hope everyone is not too tired to do battle," Lyn worried.

"Rest easy on that point, we're fit for battle!" Serra said cheerily.

Erk was muttering again, "Of course _you _are. Whenever you were tired, either Matthew or myself 'volunteered' to haul you around."

"What was that, Erky?"

"Evidently morale has not decreased in the slightest," Drake commented dryly as he watched Serra verbally sparring with Erk, "We'll be needing that for the upcoming battle."

"I knew Lundgren wasn't popular with the common people," Sain said, "But I didn't expect the popular support for Lady Lyndis to be so overwhelming."

"A matter of fresh blood rejuvenating an aging line," Wallace said gruffly.

"A-anyways," Kent hurriedly interrupted, "At least Lundgren won't be getting any reinforcements from the militia. He'll only be fielding his trusted corps that won't abandon him in a pitched battle."

"Or the ones that are in too far to extract themselves," Wallace grunted, "In my opinion, Lundgren himself won't take the field, his lieutenant Yogi will instead. Competent, but not brilliant, that Yogi is. Are you sure you won't be needing my strength out there, Drake?"

"We'll manage," came the answer, "You, Wallace, have the much more important duty."

"May Father Sky watch over us today," Lyn said, "I will see my grandfather today, after removing that snake Lundgren!"

"Nils, call to arms," Drake instructed, "Prepare to sortie." Nils scampered off to gather Lyndis' Legion for battle as dark clouds rolled overhead, sending the first droplets of a heavy downpour to earth.

Castle Caelin was situated high atop a hill with overlooking the surrounding countryside. Unlike the fortress outside of Kathelet, Castle Caelin was well maintained and boasted of a history dating back to the signing of the Lycian Covenant. For generations, its mighty walls and stalwart guards have protected House Caelin and various reigning marquises. Unfortunately, this would not be the first time the castle provided shelter for a traitor, but gods willing, this will be the last.

Lundgren was standing before the gates of Castle Caelin itself, hoping to catch a glimpse of the conflict that would erupt on the grounds below him through the rain. The battlefield, dotted with patches of forestry that encompassed nearly a quarter of the area, was once a popular jousting area for knights eager to impress their lovely ladies. Today, knights would be jousting for the throne of Caelin itself. His captain, Yogi, had left moments before to marshal the troops for battle.

Lundgren cursed at the miserable peasants who refused to provide any additional aid to his righteous cause. _They thought they'd be better off when that Sacaen whelp leads them, _he thought, _I shall crush them under my heel after I emerge victorious_. Deprived of any reinforcements, his seasoned guard held a scant numerical advantage over the upstart's forces. However, given that several of the Sacaen's forces were noncombatants or ranged units, his forces would have the decisive advantage in a melee confrontation. In the gathering darkness of the falling rain, he squinted at something approaching him along the path to the castle. _Surely the battle wasn't over already?_

Down on the battlefield, Yogi cackled with glee despite the pouring rain soaking his command. Remembering the powerful lance of Wallace, Yogi had dreaded facing the famed knight in battle. On the field, Wallace's tall form was nowhere to be seen, and the enemy had foolishly exposed his weaker noncombatants on the frontline! The enemy cavalry composed of two cavaliers, a nomad, and a pegasus knight, situated to the far left of the single line formation in front of a patch of trees. On the right, several idiotic mages or clerics were standing directly in harm's way! His own force of a dozen mounted cavaliers and a few knights on foot would easily trounce the enemy.

"This will be short and sweet," he called out to his cavalry captain, "You there, take the cavaliers and slaughter those fools on the right. I'll crush the cavalry before the forests. That miserable fool, our cavaliers run more swiftly on open land, while his will be incapacitated in the forests. Ha ha ha!"

Yogi's forces situated themselves accordingly and advanced towards where the enemy had stationed his force. Suddenly realizing his costly blunder, the enemy commander started pulling his forces back in an attempt to reform the line. Yogi crowed as the enemy cavalry entered the forest and their mages retreated along the plains.

"Idiots," he said, "Tell the cavalry to charge at full speed!"

Applying spurs to their horses, the Caelin cavaliers peeled away from Yogi and his knights, intent on reaching the enemy. The sound of pounding hooves swiftly faded away as Yogi and his knights plunged into the forests, only to find the forestry deserted.

"This can't be right," one of the knights said, "Where are their cavalry? Aren't they supposed to slow down going through forests?"

At that moment, Yogi glanced down and uttered a cry of horror. On the ground, a clear hoof print was still visible, but it was on _dry _ground!

"By the gods!" Yogi shrieked, "It's a trap! The forest ground wouldn't be as soaked as the plains because of the overhanging trees, giving their mounted warriors the edge in movement! Our cavaliers are sloshing through the open mud in the clearing on our right, outdistancing us, but they will be caught by two forces!"

"Two forces?"

"You idiot!" Yogi screamed, "The enemy cavalry won't be fighting us! They ran into the forests to outflank _our_ cavalry pursuing their infantry! By the time we trudge through these forests, our cavalry will be…!"

The screams of men and horses interrupted Yogi's rant. Yogi and his men paled before stumbling out of the forests to try and catch their cavalry.

And catch them they did, or at least what remained of their dozen cavaliers. As Yogi had realized after the trap had sprung, the two forces that stood before Yogi and his three knights had ambushed Caelin's cavaliers. The enemy cavalry had emerged earlier from the forest and caught Yogi's cavaliers in a pincer-like movement. The spell casters and archers, however, were hidden behind a tall ax man and a sword-wielding thief. It was then Yogi realized the second part of this painful trap.

"The line of noncombatants was only a disguise to hide the fighters behind them," he gasped, "You baited us into thinking it was a mistake and led the cavaliers into an ambush!"

"Very perceptive," a young man standing next to the thief congratulated, "A pity you didn't comprehend this little ruse before the battle commenced."

"A splendid little gambit, Drake," one of the cavaliers called out.

"Quiet, Sain," the man known as Drake warned, "The battle isn't over yet."

"It will be over once these knights are removed," the other cavalier said.

Yogi was well aware that he was the one hopelessly outnumbered now.

Meanwhile, in front of Castle Caelin, another man was outnumbered as he stared at his foes. Lundgren could only glare in rage at the mysterious knight and youthful girl that stood before him. _How can this be? They couldn't have defeated my forces that swiftly!_

"I'm assuming you are Lyndis, correct?" Lundgren spat out harshly.

"I am," Lyn replied, "And you are Lundgren."

"That is Marquis Lundgren to you, whelp!"

Lyn stiffened, "Grandfather, he didn't…"

"He's not dead yet," Lundgren smirked, "But he'll be soon. House Caelin has no need for a Sacaen barbarian, I am more than capable of becoming the next marquis!"

"Wretched fiend," Lyn growled, "You have harmed my grandfather and this land enough already! Prepare to die!"

"You stand no chance against me," Lundgren roared, "It is you who will die here instead, and with it, your cursed blood."

"She will not die here," the knight beside Lyn said, "At least, not alone."

"What? Wallace?"

"Indeed it is I," Wallace said, lifting his visor and glaring at Lundgren, "I serve House Caelin and its rightful marquis, not an usurper like you!"

Lundgren screamed in rage before arming himself with a lance in one hand and an ax in the other. Lyn drew the Mani Katti before charging Lundgren while Wallace hefted a mighty lance and attacked from the other side.

Lundgren was well aware of Wallace's famed skill and naturally paid him more heed than Lyn. After all, he reasoned that Lyn's pathetic little sword would do little more than dent his armor, but Wallace's ponderous strength could do him serious damage. As such, Lundgren wielded both ax and lance, clashing furiously with Wallace. A vicious close quarters battle ensued, with Lundgren having the upper hand. In close situations, lances were unwieldy and useless, but Lundgren's ax could still do fatal damage despite Wallace's sable armor. Raising his ax, he aimed a furious downward blow at Wallace's head.

An endless spray of red colored the ground.

Lundgren smiled in victory, but frowned when he felt a dull pain in the back. It was then he noticed that Wallace had held his ax arm inches away from its target, so he had failed to actually cleave Wallace in two! Then, the blood was from…

"Never turn your back upon me, snake!" Lyn hissed from behind him.

Any other blade may have failed to penetrate the powerful armor Lundgren wore, but there was no sword under the sun that could match the Mani Katti save for the Divine Weapons wielded by the Eight Heroes during the Scouring. Shearing clean through the armor on Lundgren's back, the Mani Katti had unerringly delivered Lundgren's deathblow.

"C-Caelin," Lundgren gasped out as he fell over with a crash, "I-is, rightfully… M-mine…"

Lyn only wasted enough time to draw out the Mani Katti before tearing into Castle Caelin searching for her beloved grandfather. Wallace stayed behind to make sure Lundgren was sufficiently dead, and was interrupted by footsteps behind him. Whirling around with lance at rest, he relaxed when he recognized Drake.

"I see from this great hulk of a corpse that Lyn was victorious," Drake said with a smile.

"And I see from you standing here that Lundgren's forces are no more," Wallace said with satisfaction.

"Indeed," Drake replied, "Our victory was complete, though everyone is recuperating and getting some well deserved rest. They'll meet up with Lyn in a few candle marks."

"Hmph," Wallace grunted, "The young these days have no endurance. Why, when I was your age, I could've fought a battle like that and still be fit as a flea," he paused for a moment, then fixed Drake with a cunning look, "You can't fool this old hound, Drake. You took great pains in changing the word 'our' to 'they.' Does this mean you are taking off?"

"I believe I am," Drake said softly, before gazing beyond Wallace at Castle Caelin, "Lyn does not need me any more, and my travels continue."

"There now," Wallace chided, "You should at least give her a proper farewell, or do I have to drag you before her?"

"Please tell her goodbye for me. Because I, of all people," Drake said sadly while drawing forth a gauntlet with a certain sigil engraved upon it, "Have no right to stand before her."

Whatever words Wallace had to say died in his throat as he recognized the gauntlet Drake held in his hand. Recovering, he said, "So you are one of them, I thought you had an uncanny sense of military strategy and knowledge…"

"Aye," Drake replied ruefully, "You are probably one of the only ones in this mercenary company that truly understands the meaning of this gauntlet. And now you understand why I shouldn't be here."

"I thought that war host was wiped out?"

"One survived," Drake said ominously, "And that survivor stands before you now. Yet this survivor shall fade into the darkness, where he belongs, eternally damned."

As Drake trudged down the paths away from Castle Caelin, Wallace called out, "Should I call you Drake, or the other one?"

Drake paused for a moment before looking back with a sad smile, "I buried that other name the day I buried the Terrascars…"

Wallace had no other words for the young man that grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

_And so ends Lyn's Tale, albeit with many, many changes and my little input here and there. I blended Eagler's battle and Lundgren's battle into one chapter because they simply didn't have enough content to justify two separate chapters. I hope you forgive me for the liberties I have taken with this fanfic so far, because this one isn't over yet! I'll be starting Hector/Eliwood's respective stories in the next chapter. I won't say read and review, because you've evidently already read to this point, so review if you can spare the time!_


	8. Dawn of War

_Author's Corner:_

_At last, Hector and Eliwood's parts begin, and the full story of Drake shall be revealed (in due time, of course). For the first, and grossly prolonged I might add, chapter, I'll be fusing two separate POVs, Hector and Eliwood to set the stage for the meeting in Santaruz. It might sound a tad awkward, but bear with me._

_**Lao Who Mai** – Refer back to the prologue for the allusion to the Terrascars. (And if you don't want to, I'll provide a short explanation here anyways.) Terrascars were an Etrurian idealist group that Drake helped to exterminate prior to his first meeting with Lyn._

_**Dias of All Final **– I'm glad that you like how the battles are turning out so far, as I hope I wasn't too confusing in the explanations. (I did insert a lot of my personal views/background information on various fortresses, formations, armies, etc.) As for the Lyn/tactician pairing, we'll see…_

_**DotDotDotMan** – I apologize for my spread in updating, since I do have finals coming up. Right now I'm trying to put out a chapter a week at the latest. And regarding to your line of thought, the answer is… (Insert drum roll here)… Maybe. (And yes, unfortunately, the torture will continue for a little bit.)_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter Seven **

**Dawn of War**

_May 23rd, somewhere in Castle Ostia,_

"Hector," a scarred noble bellowed furiously, "I've told you countless times not to be embroiled in Pherae's affairs! We are House Ostia, the leader of the Lycian states, and we cannot appear to be flustered or confused at any given moment, particularly with the recent friction on the Bern border. I cannot and will not send someone to search for Marquis Pherae!"

"So be it, Uther!" His brother, a blue haired lordling still ill at ease with the formalities of the court, snapped, "You understand fully well that Marquis Laus is connected in some manner to this, yet you fail to do anything! What is Ostia's might used for if not for this?"

"Invasion?" Uther said aghast, "Are you insane? How the hell is the Lycian Council going to survive that kind of shock? The unity that we have been painfully built up over _generations _would be sundered in one swift stroke because you, Hector, do not possess any common sense."

"Ahem," Oswin coughed, interrupting the furious argument between the siblings, "I'm somewhat thankful that this is within the castle's private chambers and not in the court itself. The gods know what would happen if they heard about this."

"I couldn't give a damn about what they think," Hector growled, "Feh, I don't care if Uther won't send anyone, since I'll be going along anyways." With a curt nod that could've singed the word bowing, Hector quitted the room, grumbling about the stinginess of nobles.

"Lord Hector!"

"Let him go," Uther said, rubbing his temples, "Though, Oswin, you understand what I must ask of you."

"Of course, milord."

Near the rear of the castle, Hector was still grumbling as he trudged towards the escape tunnel. Large castles like Ostia and Araphen always possessed two entrances, one located at the main gate for normal occurrences, and another solely for the purpose of allowing the marquis to flee from an enemy siege. It was here that Hector chose to make his escape from the suffocating confines of proper court etiquette.

"Let's see," he said while checking the knapsack over his shoulder, "Axes, a vulnerary or two, gold, some food…"

"You didn't bring enough gold, and that food will only last you a morning at most."

"I don't eat that much!" Hector retorted, "Wait, what the hell?"

A young thief appeared from behind one of the stone pillars and winked cheekily at Hector, "Matthew, at your service. Ever since you heard about Marquis Pherae's disappearance, Cecilia had guessed you would do something like this."

"Cecilia, eh?" Hector groaned, and not for no reason either. Cecilia was an Etrurian mage sent to Ostia as part of a diplomatic agreement between Etruria and Ostia. Aspiring to one day become a key figure in the Etrurian military, she had certainly exceeded the expectations her instructors. Showing a brilliant aptitude for brain-wracking tactical situations, her teachers had sent her to Castle Ostia for further studies. To keep up the public opinion that the relationship between the two countries was going well, Uther had assigned her the task of Court recorder. She also possessed this annoying habit of predicting what Hector was going or attempting to do, to Uther's never-ending amusement and amazement.

"The very one," a teal-haired girl dressed in a purple cloak said upon rounding the corner carrying another knapsack in her arms, "I agree entirely with what Matthew said. Those supplies will last all of one morning with the three of us."

"Three?" Matthew asked, "I originally meant for two."

Cecilia fixed him with a blank look, "Very funny, but I'm coming along too. Lord Hector will find himself unable to handle everything with an ax sometime on this journey, and I'll be there to pull him out."

"Absolutely not," Hector snapped, "I'm going by myself. And with no one tagging along in the shadows." He glared at Matthew, who was suddenly very interested in the stone floor.

"And how do you plan on dealing with the three knights just waiting for you outside this tunnel?" Cecilia asked calmly.

Hector looked bewildered, "Knights? What?"

Cecilia and Matthew looked at one another. "She just said there are three knights waiting for you beyond that tunnel," Matthew repeated with a grin.

"Ostia doesn't guard this exit," Hector said.

"Who said they were knights of Ostia?"

Hector bit his lip, then glared at the two in front of him, "Fine, come if you will, Cecilia, but Matthew you're not coming. I cannot bring along my brother's vassal who can potentially sell me out at any moment."

"When I say I'm coming, milord," Matthew said in a serious tone, "Then I'm coming as your sworn man. My word as a thief, sir, I will serve you to the end of my life."

Hector made no reply as he hurried down the tunnel towards the exit, his ax drawn in anticipation of battle. With Cecilia and Matthew trailing his footsteps, Hector stormed through the dusty stone corridors guided only by the flickering torches that threatened to go out any minute. For safety reasons, the torches were supposed to be lit indefinitely, as the marquis may have a pressing reason to flee at any given moment. However, given Ostia's legendary reputation as an impenetrable fortress, the tunnel has seldom seen use. Rounding the last corner, Hector came face to face with _one _lance-wielding knight.

Hector was surprised to say the least, "I thought you said there were three?"

The shock was mirrored on the knight's face, "The leak told me there was only one?"

Matthew smirked, "Uh, yeah, there was only one knight. However, Cecilia persuaded me to say three because she figured that would be the easiest way for you to bring us along."

"Enough," the knight had overcome his shock and was quite furious at being ignored by his prey, "I am Wire of the Black Fang, and Lord Nergal has decreed your death, Hector of Ostia."

"We'll see about that," Hector growled, "Cecilia, Matthew, I will deal with him alone!"

With a jarring crash, lance and ax connected in a shower of sparks. Pitting their formidable strength against one another, Wire stabbed his lance furiously towards Hector. The lord, in turn, feinted with his ax before withdrawing the weapon and catching his opponent's lance shaft in his right hand. Pulling on the lance, Hector drew his opponent towards him before smiting clean through Wire's war helm, slaying Wire instantly.

Ignoring the applause behind him, Hector gestured towards the tunnel opening, "Now that he's been dealt with, can you two return to Ostia?"

"I doubt that, since if we return…" Matthew began.

"A certain alarm will be raised of a certain lord's disappearance," Cecilia added.

"That," Hector retorted, "Is blackmail."

"Hey, I'm a spy, what did you expect?"

Hector scowled, "Come on, we've wasted enough time. We must hurry to Pherae, passing through Santaruz along the way."

* * *

_May 22nd, outskirts of Pherae,_

"Are you determined in your decision, Eliwood?"

"Yes, Mother," Eliwood replied, "I will find Father, and bring him back to Pherae."

"You have his stubbornness as well," Eleanora sighed, "Go with my blessing and god speed."

"Isadora, I entrust my mother to you."

"Your will be done, milord," the female knight replied, "I shall guard her with my life itself."

After Lady Eleanora and Isadora left, Marcus heaved a sigh, "Now where is that blasted Lowen? A knight must always be punctual."

Eliwood held back from smiling at his friend's expense, "Come now, Marcus, Lowen is usually fairly on time, I'm sure something has deterred him from meeting us. Where did he head off to?"

Marcus grunted, "He said he'd be seeking any swords-for-hire at the local town."

"Since we're not doing anything, let's go find him ourselves."

Pherae's townships were typical of the various villages that dotted the Lycian landscape. They were a closely-knit series of homes that surrounded the central town square that boasted of a tavern that doubled as an inn for travelers. Wooden palisades surrounded the village and was said to deter invaders, though a determined foe could certainly force their way in regardless. Most villages in Elibe did not have any sort of militia, and solely depended upon their walls for safety. Many a village was pillaged and razed to the ground simply because the bandits took them by surprise through the main gate. If the main gate was not closed by the time the bandits arrived, its townspeople were easy prey for the vile brutes.

"Such a subdued atmosphere," Eliwood noted as he could see the fear written on the villagers' faces.

"Most likely due to the disappearance of the marquis along with many good knights," Marcus suggested, wrinkling his brow.

"Hmph, as if it were that easy."

Marcus and Eliwood turned to the voice addressing them. Two burly fighters were standing beside the tavern, one of them looking oddly familiar while his comrade was nursing a mug of ale. Raising his tankard in greetings, the fighter nodded towards the tavern. Catching Marcus' eye, Eliwood led the way into the tavern where all four took a seat.

"The village has recently been taken over by bandits," the fighter explained while taking a swig of beer, "Claims that Pherae's best knights are gone and the land's for the taking. Ach, where are my manners? Bartre's the name."

"Dorcas," his friend replied slowly, "Greetings, Lord Eliwood."

"Ah, Dorcas," Eliwood greeted with a smile, "I believe we met during the Lundgren incident."

Marcus gritted his teeth, "Even if Pherae's chivalry is away, these scoundrels shall not defile this peaceful land with their presence."

"S-Sir M-Marcus!"

A knight with a mess of green hair atop his head stumbled in with a young girl in tow. "I'm glad that I've managed to locate you," he babbled, "Lord Eliwood must…"

"Easy Lowen, calm down and speak slowly."

"I am Rebecca," the girl piped up from behind Lowen, "I'm the daughter of the village magistrate and we desperately need your aid, Lord Eliwood! The bandits will take everything!"

"Then we will aid the village," Eliwood replied firmly, "Marcus? Lowen?"

"At your service, sire!"

"Might as well count us in as well," Bartre said, "I've been looking for a brawl for some time now."

"Take me along too," Rebecca said, "I have some skills with the bow and would like to strike a blow as well."

The group failed to notice someone slithering away from them. "Groznyi will pay good money for this tidbit of information. Hehehe… Omph…" Struck from his daydreams, the informant had tripped over someone's boot and fell head over heels.

If Eliwood was ignorant of the man's presence earlier, he was aware now. Marcus and Bartre were upon the fallen man instantly, pinning the spy to the floor.

"Whew, he almost got away and told the bandits," Lowen whistled.

"Those conspiring against their enemies should not speak so loudly where the walls have ears, Eliwood of Pherae."

Eliwood smiled, "Of all the places… It is good to see you again, Drake."

Drake leaned back and stretched before climbing out of his chair. He had been enjoying a pleasant luncheon until he heard Eliwood's rather loud discussion and prudently prevented a suspicious character from leaving the area.

"Elibe is a small place, Lord Eliwood."

"Indeed it is," Eliwood agreed, "Might I ask for your aid as well?"

"I highly suspect that you are not solely here to deal with bandits," Drake said as he dropped a few coins on the counter, "I'd wager you are off to find your missing father with only a small group of retainers."

If possible, Eliwood's smile broadened further, "I see that one year has not diminished your observation skills. I am guilty as charged, though I hope you could offer me some of your vaunted advice along the way."

"Where do I sign up?"

Eliwood and Drake shared a laugh as the group gathered around to make plans for the town's liberation.

To say Groznyi was furious would be a gross understatement. In a space of two candle marks, nearly a quarter of his men had mysteriously 'vanished,' despite the remainder's futile attempts to locate them. Just now, the three who were assigned to guard duty in the town square had abruptly faded into thin air, along with the others that were guarding the perimeter walls.

"Boss! Boss!"

"What is it?" Groznyi snapped angrily, "Have we found those fools yet? I wager they were drinking themselves silly in the tavern."

"No, but Thomas and Owen are no longer at the main gate!"

"What?"

"Hey, don't hurt me, I'm just the messenger…"

Groznyi punched the man anyways, if only to let out some of the pent up frustration.

"Enough! Get every idiot in this gang to meet in the town square! Now!"

Eliwood and Drake chuckled from the second story window of the inn as they watched the scene below. The bandit leader was giving his men a verbal hiding, berating them for their incompetence and laziness on the job.

"So predictable," Drake said amusingly.

"Agreed," Eliwood replied, "Once we eliminate the leadership, the others will be easy to persuade."

"Rebecca, are you ready?"

Rebecca nodded grimly as she pulled out her bow and strung an arrow. She had asked Eliwood for the opportunity of retiring the bandit leader, a small payment for the terror he had subjugated her village to undergo. With calculated precision and aided by an immobile target, she let the arrow fly. Straight and true the bolt struck Groznyi between the eyes, and the bandit leader fell over with a crash.

It was a few seconds before the remaining bandits understood that their leader was no longer lecturing them. Bewildered, a few approached the corpse before another fell with an arrow in his back. Spinning around, the bandits were greeted by two cavaliers on horseback followed by two ax-wielding fighters out for blood. Dismayed at the fall of their leader, the bandits fled stumbling out of the town, with the two cavaliers hot on their heels.

"I can't image the chaos if they actually paused to fight," Rebecca said.

"I was hoping they wouldn't be level-headed enough or organized enough to do that," Drake replied, "As most bandit bands go…"

"Cut off the head and the snake will die," Eliwood finished.

"We've wasted much time here," Drake added, "Lord Eliwood, if you plan to catch up with your father, the trail will grow colder as time wears on."

"True," Eliwood said, "We'll collect Marcus and Lowen before setting off. I plan to arrive at Santaruz in a few days. Marquis Santaruz is a good friend of my father, perhaps he'll know something. Miss Rebecca, I thank you for your aid…"

"What are you saying, Lord Eliwood? I'm coming too!"

"What?" Eliwood asked in alarm, "But that is…"

_And so it begins once more_, Drake thought as their conversation faded into the background, _I must walk the ways of war once more. I suppose the souls that once lived for battle can find no peace until death. In atonement for the souls I have slain, I shall forge a peaceful Elibe at any cost!  
_

_

* * *

_

_May 25th, western Santaruz border,_

"Ugh, what an amazingly tedious journey," Cecilia groaned.

"If you're complaining now," Matthew teased, "You shouldn't have come in the first place!"

"Quiet both of you!" Hector growled, "There's the Santaruz border… I'll be damned…"

The border post was situated between two mountain ranges, snugly fitting in the valley below. Two guard towers loomed over the miniature wall, with a stout wooden gate separating the path and Santaruz territory. The gate was wide open, with soldiers standing guard, inspecting the people entering and leaving Santaruz. What held Hector's interest, however, were the cleric and armored knight that were waiting calmly for someone to show up.

"Hello, Lord Hector!" Serra squealed happily, eliciting a groan from Matthew and Hector.

"Oswin and Serra," Hector said sarcastically, "Will I ever be free of my brother's influence?"

"Probably not," Cecilia observed.

"Lord Hector," Oswin bowed, "Lord Uther was deeply distressed at your _unexpected_ departure, and dispatched the two of us to accompany you wherever you go." In other words, wherever the hell you are, Lord Uther will know.

Hector made no reply as he passed through the border guard along with his entourage. Fighting back the urge to throttle Oswin, Hector contented himself by observing the countryside. His moment of peace was rudely interrupted by the distant clash of steel somewhere to the south. _What could that be happening over there?_ At that moment, a dozen bandits emerged from the forest slightly ahead of him, conversing loudly.

"You sure about this, Zagan?"

"Positive, once we rid that red-haired noble from Pherae, they'll pay us handsomely."

"You think we can pull off the job?"

"We outnumber them four to one! How can we possibly fail?" Zagan guffawed.

If Oswin had not held him back, Hector may well have dashed into the crowd ahead with his ax drawn.

"Unhand me, Eliwood's going to need help!" Hector snapped.

"How do you know they're talking about Lord Eliwood?" Serra asked.

"And how many red-haired nobles from Pherae are there since the disappearance of Marquis Pherae?" Cecilia asked Serra.

"Come, we must go to his aid!" Hector said before turning to the guards, "Can we count on your aid as well?"

"This isn't Ostia, Lord Hector," the captain of the guards said sarcastically, "You can't order us around here."

Patience wearing thin, Hector floored the man with a powerful punch to the face. Oswin merely lifted an eyebrow before sighing, "Just an excuse for more violence…"

"Oswin!"

"Coming, coming…"

* * *

_May 25th, southern Santaruz border,_

"Santaruz," Dorcas announced taciturnly.

"Instead of infiltrating Laus with such a small force," Marcus suggested, "Perhaps we could ask the aid of Marquis Helman?"

"That would be wise," Eliwood agreed, "Marquis Helman has had close ties with Pherae for several years now, and I'm sure he'd be willing to lend us his aid."

The group was currently resting at an abandoned guard post situated just within the borders of Santaruz. When Santaruz actually needed the extra garrisons, these guard posts were typically staffed with a full complement of soldiers, but the current run-down state signified that a province-wide mobilization has not been necessary in quite some time. Though age-worn and crumbling, the location was feasibly defensible, with only a small opening between the two walls leading towards the beaten path. In the event of an attack, enemies would have to wedge themselves through the gap quickly in order to engage the defenders. Whoever had placed these fortifications certainly knew what they were doing.

"Lord Eliwood," Rebecca called out, "Someone is headed towards us from the path."

Eliwood looked up from where he was sitting while Marcus held the reins of his steed in hand, "Visitors? Hostile or friendly?"

"I'm not certain, but a dozen bandits couldn't possibly want to share a cup of tea with us," Bartre replied from his vantage point atop one of the guard posts.

Marcus smiled thinly, "Even if they did wish ill upon us, they shall find that our weapons too sharp for their tastes."

"At any rate," Drake replied, closing his journal, "We must be ready for whatever they're up to."

"Do you have a plan?" Eliwood asked.

"We could easily take them in a pitched battle," Marcus said confidently.

"That we could," Drake replied, "But that's assuming we're only up against the dozen brigands coming here. Beyond that, this is highly suspicious."

"In what way?"

"We're not a plausible target for a normal raid," Drake pointed out, "Look at us. Which idiotic bandit crew attacks well-armed travelers with little potential for loot? And they are operating a bit too close to Santaruz border patrol for my tastes."

"Do you mean that…?" Eliwood couldn't finish his sentence.

"I don't know, but that's still a possibility," Drake admitted, "I don't want to believe it either, but my mind tells me not to ignore little details. Regardless, our primary objective is to crush these attackers first. We'll ask questions later, assuming there are any survivors on their side."

The dozen bandits halted before the two small forts where Eliwood and his companions were encamped. The prospect of attacking a well-armed force had been daunting, but the potential rewards for slaying the noble were well worth the hassle. The problem was actually killing the noble, who as of this moment has yet to show his face.

"Maybe they haven't seen us yet? I can't see anything except for that campfire."

"Don't be daft, we made too much noise on the way here."

"Shut up! They can hear us!"

"Argh," their leader grumbled, "You, go around the right side. You, go around the left. You, head down the middle. Report back whatever you can find."

The three grunts looked decidedly unhappy, but didn't question their orders. Drawing their axes, the scouts stealthily navigated the area and disappeared from view. After a few moments of peace, someone let out a shrill yelp but was abrutly silenced. The sound of rapid footsteps echoed from the middle path where one grunt had entered, and lo and behold the same grunt was sprinting back as fast as his legs could carry him. He might not have bothered if he knew a well-aimed arrow would pitch him face forward not three yards away from his leader. The two others did not come out.

"What the hell happened here?"

The nine remaining bandits jumped before turning around to face their enraged leader, Zagan. He was jabbing his thumb impatiently at the corpse before them all.

"Well, Zagan," the bandit leader babbled, "I sent in three of the boys to find the target, and they just wound up dead!"

"And why didn't you wait for the rest of us?"

"I… Uh…"

"Because you wanted the gold," Zagan finished silkily, "And you didn't want to share." Swinging his ax, Zagan lopped off the head of his incompetent captain.

"Anyone else want a piece of this?" Zagan asked lazily, continuing when no one answered, "Alright, you idiots, CHARGE!"

Zagan stood still as a score of bandits rushed past him to attack, smiling smugly at his own genius. There was little reason to risk himself in battle when there were plenty of willing subordinates to die for him! The bandits, in their haste to obey Zagan's command, all threw themselves at the opening between the two fortresses, which unfortunately could only allow a few of them to pass at a time.

Zagan sighed, "Incompetent brats, why can't they go around?"

"Because bandits are too stupid to comprehend simple strategy," a female voice said behind him.

Zagan turned around in time to see a blue-haired lord wielding an ax approach him, "Well, the fun started without us, I see."

"Who the hell are you?" Zagan demanded.

"You who are about to die," the lord said contemptuously, "Do not need to know my name!"

Inside, Eliwood and his comrades had their hands full trying to hold the bottleneck. As Drake had surmised, the bandits, upon seeing one of their own freshly slain before their eyes, abandoned all reason and only sought to rend apart their foe. Hence, they stormed down the center eager for blood, but managed to jam themselves in the narrow confines. While Eliwood, Marcus, Bartre and Dorcas were thwacking bandits left and right, Rebecca was raining arrows wherever the enemies were thickest. After putting down his third opponent, Eliwood noticed that their enemies had ceased to press forward, content only to defend themselves.

"Drake, what's going on?"

"I'd suspect that another group is attacking these bandits from the rear," Drake said, "And they're doing a decent job of it as well."

At that moment, the bandit line broke apart to yield a blue-haired man in armor holding an ax lightly in hand. Stopping before Eliwood, the man looked Eliwood up and down before clapping him on the back.

"Well, Eliwood, you don't seem to be missing an arm or two, so I'm assuming you're alright."

"H-Hector?" Eliwood asked in surprise, "What the devil are you doing here?"

Hector feigned an insulted look, "What are you doing here without telling me?"

"What?"

Hector snorted, "My best friend runs off to find his missing father without giving me a call. Well, since you don't bother asking for my help, I'm coming along anyways."

"But your brother recently succeeded the throne, and I thought you might help him settle in?" Eliwood asked.

"That I'd help him out in court?" Hector asked incredulously, "You're kidding right? The court would be at its wit's end if it found out that I was _quietly _helping my brother without getting into trouble. No, better off going on some mad adventure with you than vegetating at Ostia."

"As if you could ever sit still anyways," the young female behind Hector spoke up.

"Hm? I don't believe we've met," Eliwood said, confusion evident on his features, "I've met Oswin, but the others are unfamiliar. Are they your traveling companions?"

"Yes, whether I accept them or not," Hector replied, "This is Cecilia, a mage-in-training from Etruria who is currently studying at Ostia," Cecilia curtseyed, "The others I hoped for better, but they are…"

"That," Serra said with finality, "Was uncalled for."

"As I was saying," Hector continued, "They are…"

"Matthew, thief doubling as a spy in service of Ostia and Serra, a cleric evidently in service of House Ostia as well," Drake explained calmly to Eliwood before looking back at Hector, "Did I miss anything?"

Serra squealed in recognition, "Omigosh! It's Drake!"

"Figured me out, eh?" Matthew said with a wink, "Long time no see, Drake."

Hector leveled a look at Drake, "And you are?"

"Drake, a tactician of some sorts," came the reply, though he tried to hide his face from Cecilia as much as he could. _The fates must be mocking me again, pitting me with someone hailing from Etruria, _Drake thought.

"You're pretty young for a tactician," Hector murmured, "Even in Ostia, we don't have anyone near your age. Oh wait, excluding the tactician wannabe behind me."

"That," Cecilia said with a hint of annoyance in her eyes, "Was also uncalled for."

"I'm older than I look," Drake said mysteriously, "And age hardly determines the level of skill a tactician possesses." Cecilia beamed at that comment before throwing a look at Hector that clearly said, "I told you so!" _Yes, age matters little, _Drake thought, _I've probably fought more battles already than you ever will, Hector of Ostia._

"Drake has my trust," Eliwood said, "He validated his skills last year in the Caelin campaign, something I saw with my own eyes."

"Is that so?" Hector said, "Very well, I shall see your skills firsthand."

"Hey!" Cecilia interrupted, "I thought I was the tactician?"

"You," Hector said dryly, "Haven't exactly been recommended to me based on your skills. I'll take Eliwood's word regarding Drake's skills."

"Why you!" Cecilia was furious, "That was…"

"Also uncalled for," Hector finished, "I know, I know."

"A-anyways," Eliwood said, "Let us hurry to Castle Santaruz, I've been meaning to speak with Marquis Helman after dealing with this rabble."

"Castle Santaruz?" Oswin asked, "Pardon the interruption, but something happened on our way here."

"Indeed," Hector agreed, "We saw the bandit group heading off to attack you and asked for aid from the Santaruz border guards. The captain, a knight of Santaruz, refused to lend us his assistance."

"What?" Eliwood exclaimed in disbelief, "How can that be?"

"Whatever the cause," Cecilia interposed, "We'll find the answer…"

"At Castle Santaruz," Drake finished, winking at Cecilia, "You beat me to it."

_That took much longer than I anticipated. I re-wrote several parts of this chapter because they were rather awkward… Review if you have the time!_


	9. Of Merchants and Myrmidons

_Author's Corner:_

_Ugh, last time since I last updated, and I sincerely apologize for that. Finals took up the majority of my time, so updating went out the windows. However, finals are now over, so… That means more time for updates and new chapters! Which means I have to start thinking about deviating possibilities for this fiction again._

_**DotDotDotMan **– I'm glad you enjoyed the way I put together the previous chapter. It was the first time I did a multiple viewpoint chapter covering so much ground._

_**Lao Who Mai **– Thanks!_

_**The Idealistic Dreamer **– Bartre IS subdued because I haven't fully explored his character yet. Reason being that the previous chapter had way too many people to introduce, many different entrances, so on and so forth. Gradually, as less and less 'new' people show up, I'll be able to delve into character personalities. You get a cookie for identifying Cecilia from FE6 first._

_**Rookie **– Same thing with Bartre applies to Sain here. I'm still in the transition mode of getting a proper 'feel' regarding how much character personality input I should be adding. If anything is overdone, let me know immediately! Thank you!_

_**Paladin2007** – Read and review, and thou shalt receive more chapters._

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 8**

**Of Merchants and Myrmidons**

_March 26th, Castle Santaruz,_

_Congratulations, I managed to survive one lousy year without drawing attention or getting into some inconsequential scrap. Of course, with my luck, I managed to land myself back as a tactician for not one but **two** lords on some crazy adventure. Yes, the gods mock me indeed. Though Lord Hector seems to have picked up a girl for a tactician as well. Maybe I can delegate most of the work to Cecilia, since she was so worked up about the tactician job. Unfortunately, I have a sinking feeling that harboring any such notions will undoubtedly land me the heaven-sent job of plotting future bloodbaths. Ah, the glories of being unemployed…_

"Are you sure we should approach the castle like this?" Hector asked.

Eliwood frowned, that was the third time Hector had asked that question, and Hector never doubted his course of action, "Why not? Marquis Helman is a good friend of my father and Pherae itself, there is no reason to…"

Cecilia sighed, "Lord Eliwood, I understand that doubting Marquis Helman may be slightly paranoid, but I'd rather err on the side of caution. Those who are prepared are not prone to make hasty mistakes."

The three of them were situated near the foothills beside a Santaruz settlement. Over the rise, the tall spires of Castle Santaruz could be seen proudly flying the House Santaruz banners. Marcus and Oswin, being the senior retainers of Pherae and Ostia, were just within earshot of the conversation, though outwardly the two were on alert for potential dangers. According to Drake's suggestion, Rebecca and Dorcas stationed themselves atop the hill to scout for incoming trouble from Castle Santaruz. Bartre was currently engrossed in a 'friendly' game of poker with Serra despite the fact that the cleric was taking this month's pay from him with amazing ease.

"I wish Drake was here," Eliwood sighed, "He'd probably take my word regarding Marquis Helman's honesty."

"Heh," Hector grunted, "Eliwood my friend, you didn't witness the nonchalance of the Santaruz soldiers, _we _did. As Cecilia said, there is no harm in being prepared."

Drake, with Matthew in tow, had ventured into the nearby village in hopes of gleaning some information or rumors. Matthew had literally begged to tag along, desperate for any chance to delegate Serra to someone else. Given that neither of the pair was particularly adept at sticking out in a crowd or well known, Drake and Matthew mingled easily into the common folk.

"Drake," Matthew said happily, tossing an apple into the air, "You don't know what it feels like to be free of that infernal chatterbox. It's like…"

"Releasing a demon from its shackle around your neck, I know," Drake sighed, "That's only the third time you've said that."

Matthew grinned sheepishly before turning a serious face towards Drake, "What do you think about that rumor concerning the marquis' recently acquired questionable acquaintances?"

"I'm not sure," Drake replied thoughtfully, "Though from what I garnered from Lord Eliwood, Marquis Helman usually doesn't mingle with someone of questionable background. So one must wonder where Marquis Helman met this man."

"Laus?" Matthew supplied.

"Highly likely," Drake said as he thought back to where they had pilfered that rumor. A soldier with a loose tongue, claiming to be Marquis Helman's bodyguard, had blurted out that the marquis had been meeting with the marquis of Laus during a drunken ramble, "Unfortunately, that still doesn't give us a fix on who this mysterious person is."

"Hold," Matthew whispered, gesturing towards a villager and a soldier, "Listen!"

Drake pressed his back against a wall before leaning around the corner while Matthew squatted behind a barrel. A villager and a common spearman, apparently siblings, were conversing loudly while the villager was tending to the soldier's wounds.

"Yowch, go easy! That blasted mercenary guarding the southern pass had a wicked blade!"

"Heh, to beat you this badly, I'd bet he had some skill too."

"Argh, that he had," the soldier admitted grudgingly, "Guy was his name, and an ever funny one at that. Those Sacaens always come up with interesting ways to name their children!"

As the siblings' roaring laughter ended their conversation, Matthew and Drake wandered away. Drake was measuring a possible degree of skill of this Sacaen myrmidon when Matthew interrupted his thoughts, "Hey, Drake, when we meet this Guy, let me handle him."

"Alone? Are you sure?"

"Aye, I have a sure-fire trump card," Matthew grinned evilly, "Guaranteed one-hit kill!"

"Frankly," Drake observed dryly, "I think you've been spending way too much time around Serra," he pointedly ignored Matthew's horrified look, "Let's return to the others."

Rounding the corner of a nearby house, the two of them barely managed to catch sight of a horse-drawn cart speeding towards them. Diving to either side, Drake and Matthew narrowly averted being crushed beneath its wheels.

"Wah! I'm late! I'm late! Oh, woe is me!" The man onboard wailed as he urged the horse to move faster.

"Hey wait!" The innkeeper came running outside with a bag in hand, "You forgot one of your bags!" By then, the cart was merely a cloud of dust further along the road.

"Rats," the innkeeper muttered, "What would I do with this junk?"

"You could give it to us!" Matthew said, dusting himself off.

"You?"

"Yeah, we're friends of that man who just left," Matthew said with a dramatic sigh, "We're his business partners, but he's always late with his shipments. Oh bother…"

_I see why he's a spy in service of House Ostia_, Drake thought, _those acting skills would land him a job in any theater across Elibe._

"Oh, in that case, please hand this to him," replied the innkeeper, handing over the bag, "Last I heard, he was muttering something about heading to Castle Santaruz."

"Ah, much obliged," Matthew said as the innkeeper went back to tending his shop.

"You never change, do you?" Drake asked.

"Hey, once a thief, always a thief."

Drake sighed again, "Anything of use inside?"

"Let's see," Matthew said, rummaging through the pack, "The usual: torches, a few random keys, a lock pick set, and… What the hell is this?"

Drake turned to look. Matthew was holding up a small round object carefully wrapped in soft velvet with a paper attached. Snatching the paper, Drake read it out loud, "MINE-PROTOTYPE. Exercise extreme caution when using this experimental item. Heavy impact or the act of stepping on this item will cause the KA-BOOMING of an area three meters in radius. KEEP AWAY FROM FIRE."

Drake looked up to see Matthew's expectant eyes, "Hell if I know what this is, but it appears to be worth something."

Matthew's eyes lit up, "Score!"

Meanwhile, back with the main group, Rebecca came running back to the two lords and Cecilia, "Lord Eliwood, soldiers are leaving the castle!"

"Destination?" Cecilia asked.

"Headed in our direction," answered Rebecca.

Eliwood and Hector exchanged a look and mutually grimaced. Marcus and Oswin, hearing the report, went to rally the others. Bartre, after a profound round of cursing at his rotten luck, was only too happy to abandon his dismal round of poker with Serra. Serra, though a little peeved at being interrupted in the middle of her overwhelming victory, congratulated herself at winning a comfortable two-month's worth of pay from Bartre.

"I hate it when I'm right," Hector grumbled, "Every time I make the correct assumption, something bad always happens."

Eliwood didn't reply, silently praying that the Santaruz soldiers were merely performing a routine patrol. However, from the numbers that Dorcas had just reported, this was no ordinary patrol squad and more like a war host.

"Trouble?"

"Drake!" Eliwood said as he turned to see Drake and Matthew join them, "I'm afraid so, soldiers have just emerged from Castle Santaruz headed towards us."

"We're deploying for battle at this moment," Cecilia added, "And, Sir Drake, if I may…"

_She wants to prove her skill to the lords_, Drake nodded, _very well, this battle is yours._

Cecilia beamed despite Hector and Eliwood's surprise. Eliwood, trusting Drake's judgment, entrusted the battle to Cecilia after receiving Drake's confirmation. Hector was another story altogether, since it took the combined persuasive might of Drake, Cecilia, and Eliwood to convince him they had not just fed the sheep to the wolves.

"There is an alternate route to the castle," Drake added, "North of Castle Santaruz, the river narrows, permitting a small infantry force to wade across."

"In that case," Cecilia said after a moment's thought, "Drake, you take Bartre and Dorcas around in order to take the defenders in a pincer movement. If the soldiers are not hostile, then we'll meet you at Castle Santaruz without a fight."

"Understood," Drake replied, "Might I offer a word of advice?"

"Speak freely," Cecilia said.

"Do not rely solely on what the books tell you," Drake admonished, "Tactics are alive, susceptible to change at any given moment. Textbook examples are dead, and blindly following what they say will get your comrades killed."

Cecilia angrily huffed, "I'm sure I can distinguish between the two of them!"

Drake smiled, "My apologies, I'm a little paranoid these days." With that, Drake signaled Dorcas and Bartre to move out.

"I highly doubt they are friendly," Oswin remarked after Drake had left, "Though I suppose a peaceful solution is far better than a violent one."

Hector fixed Oswin with a frosty glare, but held back a retort. Eliwood and Marcus chuckled lightly before Cecilia brought them back to the situation at hand.

"At any rate, a large river separates our camp from Castle Santaruz," Cecilia said, "In order for either of our forces to meet, we must pass through the Lorson Bridge to the south of here."

"Is fording the river a possibility?"

"Unlikely," Rebecca said, "The river currents are too powerful during late spring, and anyone wearing heavy armor would easily lose their footing in the river bed."

"And we can't remove the armor to tempt a crossing with potential hostiles surrounding us," Marcus added, "The bridge is the most logical choice, but the most heavily defended as well."

"Form up," Cecilia instructed, "Cavalry first, then infantry, followed by support units. From Rebecca's report, the enemy lacks heavy cavalry support, so Marcus and Lowen should be able to plow through them with ease. After their ranks are disrupted, we'll be able to pick apart the disorganized mass."

"Well, didn't that sound official," Hector whispered to Eliwood.

"Of course it did," Eliwood whispered back, "That's almost straight out of Basic Stratagems of Warfare, but I'm willing to bet you slept soundly through that class."

Hector made a face, "Hey, it's not my fault the professor was droning on and on."

Under Cecilia's direction, Marcus and Lowen formed the spearhead of the charge. They were followed closely by the two lords, the four of them responsible for breaking across the bridge as quickly as possible. Once a toehold had been established, Oswin and Matthew would bring Rebecca along to solidify their position.

As the war party approached the Lorson Bridge that separated them from Castle Santaruz, they came upon a curious sight. A lone sentry had been posted on their side of the bridge, with a deadly blade sheathed beside him. The minor technicality was that this diligently deadly guardian was fast asleep, his bandanna pulled down to cover his eyes. Matthew smirked widely at the sight of this wayward guard, and motioned that he would handle this alone. Tip-toeing lightly up to the oblivious swordsman, Matthew took a deep breath…

Then smacked the unfortunate sleeper in the back of the head, "Wake up, sleepyhead!"

The myrmidon screamed like a little girl.

"I'm blind! I'm blind!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow before pulling up the myrmidon's bandanna, "Behold, the light is restored to you."

"Much thanks, stranger…" the myrmidon took another look at Matthew's face and screamed again, "By Father Sky, restore to me my beautiful dream and banish this hideous thief from my sight!"

Matthew looked offended, "Hey, I'm not that ugly, don't scream like that! Is that a way to greet old friends, Guy?"

Guy scowled, "Friend? Last time we met you nearly got us killed!"

"Sure," Matthew said nonchalantly, "If I hadn't fed you, you would be dead of starvation."

"That's besides the point," Guy said furiously, "You then forced me to aid you in stealing the treasury of a merchant's house!"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, you ask?" Guy raged, "Stealing maybe, you didn't tell me I had to deal with two dozen guards!"

"Hey, we got out alive, we got the gold, and I treated you to the most fabulous meal of your life," Matthew counted off his fingers, "So what are you complaining about?"

"Argh, you're hopeless. Now go away, I'm supposed to be watching for enemies headed to Castle Santaruz."

"Would they happen to be in the form of two young lords, one a redhead and the other blue-haired, leading a crew of mercenaries?" Matthew asked.

"Shaddup," Guy said, then stopped and gazed at Matthew, "Wait, how did you know?"

Matthew jerked his thumb behind him towards Hector and Eliwood, "You have to be the worst sentry in the history of Elibe."

Guy blinked, "You have to be kidding me…"

"Since you're so hopeless," Matthew sighed, "It's up to your old buddy to bail you out again."

"Bail me out?" Guys wondered, "You? I'm better off throwing myself into the river and drowning!"

"In that case, since you have nothing better to do, you're coming with us," Matthew replied.

"What?"

"You heard me, you owe me a few favors," Matthew said, "So now's the time to pay up. Come along, I'll introduce you to Lord Hector and Lord Eliwood."

_Maybe we should adopt this manner of recruiting in Etruria as well,_ Cecilia noted as she watched Matthew drag a protesting Guy towards them.

Across the bridge, a Santaruz knight was marshalling his forces. Scouts had reported the approach of the Pherae lordling, though the sentry had given no warning. Boies, typical of most Lycian knights, held the Sacaens in low regard, and his attitude towards their latest recruit was no different.

"Bah, all he was interested in was filling his belly," Boies scoffed, "Little wonder he abandoned us after the filth we fed him."

"Well, our rations are pretty bad, I'll admit," one of the archers said.

"Regardless, he is a traitor, and will be dealt with accordingly," Boies said, "Rally the fighters and send them to Lorson Bridge!"

"Yes, sir!"

After the man had left, Boies smiled, "After I kill those whelps, Lord Ephidel had promised me a handsome price, and maybe even a lordship as well. Finally, Lady Luck is smiling upon me after neglecting me for so long."

Lorson Bridge, named after a kind-mannered Santaruz marquis many generations ago, stood between the two encroaching armies. Though weather-beaten, its stout timbers still supported the crushing weight of armored horse or hay-filled wagons drawn by oxen. Here, many a desperate battle was waged for the fate of Santaruz, and today was no different.

On Eliwood's end, Cecilia had finished dispatching her orders to the host. Marcus and Lowen, closing the visors on their war helms, lowered their lances in rest before thundering across the narrow bridge. The rickety wooden planks shuddered lightly upon their crossing, but supported their weight. Following closely on their heels, Eliwood and Hector crossed, weapons bared in preparation for combat.

A dozen swordsmen and half as many archers awaited them on Santaruz' side. Flanked by a cavalier on either side of the line, the soldiers charged forward to meet the rush. The cavaliers spurred their horses to meet Marcus and Lowen's charge, but they were slow to react, encumbered by the river mud. Unfortunately, Marcus and Lowen had the momentum of their charging steeds built up from their charge across the bridge, and the jarring crash of lance upon shield soon proved that the Pherae horsemen had the mastery. After two jabs, Marcus' lance passed clean through his opponent's chest, felling the warrior in a splash. Lowen, though having a slightly harder fight on his hands, managed to trip his adversary's steed, throwing the enemy cavalier headfirst into the water. Rebecca, watching the combat through her clear green eyes, finished off the downed soldier with a well-aimed arrow.

Dismayed by the loss of their cavalry, the Santaruz swordsmen nevertheless pushed forward. The same difficulty that the Santaruz horsemen had encountered now plagued Marcus and Lowen. While they possessed the height advantage, the riverbed was now a muddy track that greatly affected a charging horse. Unable to build up to a galloping speed, Marcus and Lowen managed to hack their way back to where Eliwood and Hector arrived off the bridge. Seeing their opponent's congregated, the Santaruz archers moved forward to pincushion the quartet.

Seeing the danger, Cecilia turned to Matthew and Guy, "We are out of time, the enemy archers have moved forward. I need the two of you to cross the bridge in a hurry."

Matthew nodded, but Guy muttered underneath his breath, "Figures, wherever Matthew goes, my luck drops to nil."

"Did you say something?"

"No, nothing at all," Guy lied.

As they were crossing the bridge, Matthew reached into his cloak pocket and withdrew something. Guy, though curious, did not bother asking the thief what the time was. At that moment, several arrows flew over where Eliwood and Hector were, moving towards where Matthew was standing.

"Curses," Matthew bit out, backing up.

"What?" Guy asked, bumping into the thief.

Twisting to dodge the incoming arrows, Matthew was unprepared for the untimely collision. Knocked off balance, he dropped the item in hand and could only watch helplessly as an ill-timed arrow struck it.

"Oh, crap…"

"What now?" Guy asked as he helped Matthew up, only to have the thief grab him and head off the bridge, "Where are we going?"

A thunderous explosion answered his question. Behind him, the mine had detonated, the explosive powder and magical runes activating upon impact of the arrow. The venerable bridge could handle a few arrows here and there, but not the might of an explosion in its middle. Fire licked hungrily as the Lorson Bridge collapsed asunder, leaving a ten-yard gap between the two remaining pieces of the bridge.

Cecilia whirled on Matthew, "What in the gods' name was that?"

Matthew looked sheepish, "Drake and I found a prototype mine of some sort that said it'd go boom upon impact. I didn't think it'd do so much damage when I dropped it on accident."

"With the bridge destroyed and half of our forces stranded on either side," Cecilia said bitterly, "They will be overran on Santaruz' side. We have no way to cross with the Lorson Bridge utterly destroyed." Certain words came to mind as she said this_. Do not rely solely on what the books tell you, tactics are alive, susceptible to change at any given moment. Textbook examples are dead, and blindly following what they say will get your comrades killed. _A certain older and evidently wiser tactician had warned her, back when she had refused his advice in her pride. _And now I may pay with the lives of my friends,_ she thought.

Seeing victory in sight, the Santaruz squad leader called one of the archers to him, "Inform Sir Boies that our foes are within our iron grip. They fight desperately, but they will be overwhelmed. And get the northern patrol squad over here; their lances will easily pin the knights down while we remove the lords." The archer scurried off to obey the command while the captain resumed command of the battle.

The captain drew his sword and summoned the other mercenaries, "Come, let us finish this rabble and win our golden prize." His men cheered as they threw themselves into battle.

Yet the quartet could not be conquered so easily. Back to back they stood, a deadly ring of four fighters refusing to throw in the towel. Sword danced, lances thrust, and ax smote all who moved within their range. Shield and armor alike shattered to dust before their blows, though sooner or later fatigue would defeat them. Already exhausted from defending themselves from countless near-fatal blows, the reactions of the besieged were already dulled.

"We can't carry on like this without reinforcements," Lowen remarked as he wounded a mercenary's arm.

"If Cecilia can't find a way to get Matthew and the others over the ruined bridge," Hector growled, "Then we'll just have to take as many as possible with us to Hellgates."

Eliwood and Marcus remained silent, letting their weapons do the talking for them.

At length, the four were surrounded in a ring of mercenaries. Several they had felled or wounded, but few have they killed. It was difficult to finish a downed foe when one always had to guard against another enemy aiming to thrust his sword in your back. Out of the dozen swordsmen that had taken the field against them, four were wounded and one had perished, but the wounded had time aplenty to staunch their wounds and return to the fray. The continued harassment from the mercenaries, coupled by allied arrows, was more than sufficient to keep Eliwood and company from tending to their own injuries. Eliwood sported a gash on his sword arm, and was forced to switch hands. Hector was wounded earlier in the fight by a sword thrust in the thigh, and thus moved more sluggishly. Both of Lowen and Marcus' horses were faint from carrying their fully armored masters for so long. Another charge would end it, and everyone on this field knew it.

Matthew was about to give them up for lost when he spied several large tree trunks floating downriver. Puzzled, he asked Cecilia what could've caused this.

"Must be lumberjacks from the village upriver," she replied, then suddenly her eyes grew wide, "Wait a minute…"

"What is it?"

"We can save our friends!" Cecilia said excitedly, "Matthew, Guy, we can form a makeshift passageway using the fallen trees by bracing them across the foundations of the bridge!"

Realization dawning in a flash, Matthew scurried off to obey, followed by Guy after a moment's hesitation. Pushed by the current, the two trees were stopped by the remains of the bridge foundations. After a moment's maneuvering, Matthew managed to produce a temporary bridge to ferry them across. Without another pause, Matthew, Guy and Rebecca hurried over to the other side and struck at the mercenaries surrounding Eliwood and Hector.

The Santaruz captain cursed, "Damn, they're over the bridge. Forget them, slay the lords!"

The archers were notching arrows to their bows when the captain turned to one of his subordinates, "Where are the spearmen patrolling the northern flanks? We need them here!"

Abruptly, an arrow struck the man the captain was talking to in the back of the neck. He died with a surprised gasp, as if unable to believe there was an arrowhead lodged in his throat. Furious, the captain turned around and screamed at the archers, "You nitwits! Aim your damnable arrows!"

He stopped as he saw two fighters wielding large axes scattering the archers. Two arrow-flingers were dead on the ground, whereas the other four were scattering, headed towards Castle Santaruz. Behind him, Matthew and Guy were slashing through the other mercenaries like hot knives through butter. Serra, aided over the bridge by Rebecca, was tending to the wounded.

Glowering with rage, the captain swore and drew his own sword before rushing towards Hector, who was by the river extending a hand. The captain was almost upon the unsuspecting lord when an armored gauntlet clasped the proffered hand and a fully armored knight hauled himself over the riverbank. The captain skidded to a stop when the knight pointed a sturdy lance at him.

"I normally dislike violence," the knight boomed, "But any who presumes to harm my liege lord shall feel the wrath of my lance. Prepare to die, craven!"

The swordsman had no choice but to give battle. If he could make it past the knight in a hurry, there was a possibility he could still bring down the wounded lord behind him. Screaming a war cry, the man hurtled himself against the knight, trying to sneak around the ponderous armor.

A sweeping lance blow caught him right in the stomach, and he doubled up with the wind knocked out of him. The knight towered over him, lance at ready, "I am Oswin of Ostia, foolish sellsword. You shall not circumvent me so easily."

The mercenary hacked, "You will not win so easily. We have fifty spearmen stationed to the north, and they will be arriving soon!"

"Actually they were more half a dozen," a young man remarked as he arrived with the two fighters.

"Drake!" Eliwood said, "You made it!"

"And a wimpy group they were," Bartre scoffed, "Even if you had fifty of those pansies, Bartre the Brave would send them crying back to their mothers." Bartre hefted his bloody ax as he said this.

"Or at least those who survived," Dorcas said quietly.

The mercenary, still gripping his sword tightly, struggled to his feet and lunged at Eliwood. He got no further than two steps before Marcus and Lowen speared him down.

"Well, now that this battle is out of the way," Drake said calmly, "Only Castle Santaruz awaits us."

"Your timing couldn't have been better," Hector said as he limped up, "Those archers were certainly a pain in the ass."

"Agreed," Eliwood congratulated Drake, "But we best hurry to Castle Santaruz before they close the gates."

"That would be unlikely," Drake said, "Given that a certain overconfident knight had nearly emptied the castle in order to bring the two of you to an early end. Only a lone Santaruz knight was guarding the castle gates. Dorcas and Bartre made sure that he would not hinder our progress."

"How did you make it across the northern crossing so easily?" Matthew asked, "We surely had a rude welcome, and you were outnumbered three to one up there!"

"That wasn't extremely difficult," Drake explained, "Mind, they do not know our faces since we weren't accompanied by a lord, so we merely posed as lumberjacks clearing the land. We were also aided by the fact that three of the spearmen were sharing a flask of mead and were hardly fit for battle. Our disguise got us close enough for an ambush to slay them all."

"How the bloody hell did you manage to demolish the bridge?" Bartre asked.

Matthew and Guy looked at one another, "Let's not go there…"

After the group started towards the castle, Cecilia hung back to speak with Drake alone, "I confess that I made a royal mess of the southern crossing," she said miserably.

"You did quite well," Drake said, "I don't see any of our friends lying in a pool of blood on the ground."

"I almost did," Cecilia said in a small voice. She then explained what had happened when the bridge collapsed.

"Oh, the mine," Drake laughed, "That was a situation beyond your control, and you adapted well by making another bridge out of the trees."

"Thank you," Cecilia said, relief flooding through her at the praise, "Wait, how did you know about the trees? I only mentioned the bridge giving away."

"Err…"

"You sent the logs into the river, didn't you?" Cecilia asked.

"Ach, I'm caught," Drake confessed, "While we approached the spearmen in our disguise, an archer came with orders to aid in the slaying of two trapped lords. He mentioned briefly that the bridge had fallen apart, and the targets were easily within reach. We used that opportunity to fall upon our distracted foes, then pushed the logs we used as a bridge into the river."

"It appears I still have much to learn," Cecilia said.

"We all start somewhere," Drake answered, "I was a rookie sometime as well. Now, let's hurry, they must have reached Santaruz by now."

"Yes," Cecilia said, though she stopped him, "I was wondering… If I could learn from you…? Lord Eliwood seems to trust your abilities, and mine I find sorely lacking."

"…" Drake stopped, his back still towards her, "Being a tactician involves planning the death of mortal men, Cecilia. If you can steel yourself against the guilt you attach towards yourself, then I shall tutor you as much as I can during the time we have."

"I will."

_Then you are far stronger than I, _Drake thought as they walked towards the castle, _or far more naïve. I dream of the blood on my hands every night, nor do they cease to plague me every waking moment._

With all the defenders fallen at the Battle of Lorson Bridge, Castle Santaruz could do little to stop Hector and Eliwood from marching straight within its walls. Hurrying through its halls, Eliwood and Hector finally located Marquis Helman sagging weakly on his throne. He was coughing up blood as a slender dirk could barely be seen protruding from his stomach. Whoever tried to slay him had thought the dagger would be sufficient, never guessing the old man could hold out so long.

"Marquis Helman!" Eliwood cried out as he hurried towards the old man.

"Eli-Eliwood?"

"Marquis Helman, hold on, a healer is coming!"

"N-no time…" Marquis Helman coughed, "I… I must apologize… Y-your father…"

"Father?" Eliwood asked.

"If," Marquis Helman continued, "If I had never told him about… About Marquis Darin…"

"Darin? Darin of Laus?" Hector asked.

"The very one," Marquis Helman gurgled as blood seeped through his lips, "Beware…"

"Of what?"

"The… B-black… Fang…" Marquis Helman knew no more as the darkness consumed him.

"What happened here?" Drake said as he entered the throne room with Cecilia, "It appears we missed the entire event."

As Eliwood filled Drake in on what had happened, Hector approached Cecilia.

"You did a fine job at the bridge," Hector said.

"T-thank you, milord," Cecilia stammered.

"Do you happen to know the Black Fang?"

Drake turned pale at those words, but Eliwood didn't notice.

"Excuse me?"

The four of them turned when a balding man entered the room, twirling his small moustache, "I am Merlinus, a merchant without equal throughout Elibe. I came seeking the patronage of Marquis Helman, but my interview has long since passed," he noticed the marquis' rather unhealthy amount of blood on the ground, "By the gods! The marquis has been murdered!"

"As our eyeballs can clearly see," Hector growled.

"No! This cannot be!" Merlinus groaned, "My dreams of prosperity and servitude for a noble house! Gone!"

"You said you were a merchant, correct?" Eliwood asked.

"Yes, I am," Merlinus replied.

"Well then, you can come with us."

"Eliwood?" Hector asked, astonished by his friend's suggestion.

"Our journey has just begun," Eliwood explained, "Along the way, surely we will meet more friends or allies, and our equipments would need a trustworthy connoisseur to look after."

"A journey fraught with danger?" Merlinus squeaked.

"Indeed," Hector replied, "Many appear to be after our lives, despite that Eliwood is the next lord of Pherae and I'm next in line for House Ostia."

"Ostia? Pherae? Two of the most prominent houses in the Lycian League?" Merlinus gasped starry-eyed, "To have such noblemen as my benefactors! The gods have favored me!"

"Eliwood," Hector asked, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Positive, he seems trustworthy enough."

"Fine, I have some luggage he can carry anyways," Hector said, "Serra!"

"Yes!" Matthew crowed, "No more whining and complaining!"

"What are you talking about?" Hector asked, "I just want her to deposit all of her excess items with Merlinus. She's still your responsibility." He ignored the ear-splitting groan that Matthew emitted at that.

"Of course!" Merlinus replied happily, "Whatever you give, Merlinus will keep!"

Drake and Cecilia both raised an eyebrow at that, "I think…" Drake began.

"We'd better have Matthew keep an eye on him," Cecilia finished.

* * *

_I really, really, didn't want to devote a chapter to Merlinus' introduction, so there you have him! Review if you have the time! I'll update more frequently now!_


	10. Battle of Laus

_Author's Corner:_

_This battle will probably inaugurate serious combat in this fiction, at least in my opinion. I stated earlier that I held Lyn's Tale to be more or less of an introduction, and I had wished to write about large-scale combat. Well, here it is, and I hope I don't bore you too much._

_And just as a forewarning, a destrier is stallion bred purely for carrying armored knights into battle. Throughout this fiction, I will be replacing 'hours' with 'candle marks,' since in the setting of Fire Emblem, they don't really have clocks to count hours do they? (Correct me if I'm wrong on this…)_

_ Chapter was done two days ago, but for some strange reason I couldn't log in...  
_

**_Lao Who Mai _**– _Thank you!_

_**Paladin2007 **– Humor is, I believe, a good way to keep away the nasty little reminder that says, "OMG, this thing is long!" Oh, you can give Matthew a mine, just make sure Guy isn't with him._

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 9**

**Battle of Laus**

_April 4th, few hours march from Laus territory,_

_Ah, Laus, the home of more political conspirators than perhaps the rest of Lycia combined. Only a scant four years have passed since a certain Laus commander had foolishly attempted the coup d'etat of the neighboring city Worde. Said attempt ended in a fiasco, but given that some busybody from Laus is always attempting something of the sort every decade or so, it was not a very big surprise. Enough of the past, the present is more important!_

Drake snapped his journal shut before tossing the age-worn item back into his knapsack. It had been slightly over a week since the group left Santaruz and a deceased Marquis Helman behind. As they progressed steadily into Laus, the surreptitious hand of war could readily be seen upon the faces of the small folk. War was a matter between nobles and nations, but the common people always suffered from invading armies, increased taxes, and forced conscription. Young boys could dream about glory in a marquis' army, but needy families always needed strong hands for the harvest.

The draft, however, was something few families could avoid. While passing by several of Laus' villages, Drake could clearly see soldiers prying young men away from their families. _One man from every family is called upon to serve the glory of Laus, _Drake recalled from a campaign announcement he had read a few days ago, _and how many of these glory-seekers will return to their families?_

Cecilia and Matthew also came back with a grave report. They mentioned that several food storages along the frontier have been raided, their contents depleted by rogue bands or bandits.

"That's ridiculous," Matthew snorted, "The break-in and getaway were simply too well organized to be done by simple bandits. No, this is the military's work."

"They'd steal from their own people?" Cecilia said, aghast.

"This isn't Pherae, Ostia, or Etruria," Matthew replied, "Laus' troops are infamous for being undisciplined and wont to pillage any passing town. I'd suspect that Marquis Darin ordered his men to find their own supplies, and gave them free reign to get it."

"Then what will the villagers live on when winter comes?" Eliwood asked.

Matthew shrugged, "Starve, I suppose."

Hector put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Eliwood…"

Eliwood bit his lip, "When we find Marquis Darin, we'll get to the bottom of this," he vowed.

"Then we best be on our guard," Drake supplied, "From what I can see, Laus soldiers are not moving out into a foreign territory yet. So that means the majority of Laus' forces are congregated somewhere near, probably around Castle Laus itself."

"And will give any intruder a warm welcome tempered with steel," Cecilia said grimly, "We'd be outnumbered quite badly in a head-to-head confrontation."

"I'd hope to settle things peacefully," Eliwood sighed, "But after the Santaruz skirmish…"

"…That'd be highly unlikely," Hector growled.

The vanguard stopped beside a small brook that emptied into the sea a few miles south. The River Tunly, as it was called, was all that separated Eliwood and Hector from Castle Laus and whatever answers they may find there.

"We best make camp here," Drake said, "This is a feasibly defendable location, with only three bridges over the River Tunly."

"Why not move onto the plains on the other side?" Hector asked.

"The flat plains are ideal for a cavalry charge," Cecilia explained, "If we were to encamp on the other side and Laus proves to be hostile, we would be easily trampled down by Laus cavalry, since we do not possess the proper numbers to withstand such a charge."

"Then we'll encamp here," Eliwood affirmed, "Maybe we should dispatch a messenger to the castle? A villager perhaps?"

"That'd be wise, but I think unnecessary," Drake said, "Rebecca just marked out someone headed in our direction from Castle Laus. Cavalier of some sort, she said."

Matthew ran up from his position at the middle bridge, "Decorated Laus seal, must be someone from the ruling family."

"Must be Erik then," Eliwood said, looking at Hector.

Hector grimaced, recalling the innumerable arguments they had gotten into in their youth, "I'd better avoid that snake then. Whatever good you might do, Eliwood, I'd shatter it if I ever talk to Erik. I'll see about camp for now."

Eliwood nodded, "Take me to him, I'll speak with him at the middle pass," he ordered with Drake and Cecilia in tow.

Though it had been several years since Eliwood had last seen the son of Marquis Darin, Erik's arrogance and pride had changed little. Reining in on his brown stallion, Erik cast a contemptuous eye over the soldiers around the camp. The smirk that was snaking across his mouth quickly disappeared when his eyes fell upon Eliwood.

"Eliwood!" Erik greeted, "Long time no see!"

Eliwood was wary at the warm greeting, "Greetings, Erik, what are you doing here?"

Erik looked surprised, "Why, I've come here to greet my old friend of course!"

Drake and Cecilia exchanged a look, but Eliwood remained silent. _Erik never considered me to be a friend or even a companion, _he thought, _so why the change in attitude?_

"So…" Erik continued, "What brings you over to Laus? On your way to Ostia, perhaps?"

"What makes you say that?" Eliwood wondered.

"Well, you've always been good friends with Hector," Erik said smoothly, "Brash, uncivil Hector, one could almost mistake him for a commoner at first glance."

"I have not come to hear you insult my friend," Eliwood warned.

"Then what is your purpose?" Erik persisted.

Drake laid a hand on Eliwood's shoulder, "Milord Eliwood, perhaps it is high time that we press on to Ostia. The rumors we have heard are quite disquieting…"

Whatever composure Erik possessed was swiftly dashed at that comment. "W-what rumors?" Erik blurted out.

Playing along, Cecilia ignored Erik completely, "Indeed, if what Marquis Helman said was true, Ostia should be warned immediately."

Drake continued to bait the lordling, "A pity we haven't sent word ahead. Now that Marquis Helman is no more, we are the only holders of this confidentiality," he lowered his voice slightly, but just loud enough for Erik to hear, "We can't alert Laus yet that we are on to them."

Eliwood, catching Drake's eye, agreed, "I concur, especially after seeing the level of mobilization in Laus."

Erik looked relieved, "So you haven't sent a runner ahead, haven't you? Excellent…"

"What do you mean?" Drake asked innocently, though a victorious smirk was playing across his lips.

Cecilia mirrored his expression; _Patient fishing yields a large catch, or a large confession in this case._

"Eliwood," Erik sneered, "I always loathed your self-righteousness and idealism, and vowed one day to smash your wretched faith into pieces. That day has now come, and without alerting Ostia, your cause is now doomed!"

"Tsk, tsk," Cecilia chided, "Just because we haven't sent a messenger doesn't mean Ostia doesn't know of your dealings."

Erik paled, "What?"

"Since House Ostia travels with this group," Hector declared as he appeared behind Erik.

"Hector!" Erik screeched and whirled back to Eliwood, "Y-you, you contacted Ostia!"

"Maybe," Hector said gruffly before turning to Eliwood, "Forget this braggart, Eliwood. Several Laus regiments are marshalling into battle order and moving against us. They'll reach the Tunly River before a candle mark is up."

"Fools," Erik spat out, "Laus' finest knights will run you down like the dogs you are!"

"Why, you…" Hector started, drawing his ax.

"Hold!" Eliwood shouted, "By the orders of chivalry, we should not strike him down under the flag of parley. Let him go and look to the battle at hand."

Erik laughed madly before wheeling his horse and galloped across the river.

* * *

Laus' military, though not as well known as Ostia's legendary armored knights or Pherae's prowess in mounted cavaliers, still fielded a stout army capable of holding its own in a pitched battle. Deviating from Ostia and Pherae's style of army organization, Laus typically deployed an overwhelming amount of cavaliers, intending on passing over their enemies with a powerful charge of mounted horse.

Ostia's knights, well known for their perpetual, steady pushing and not yielding a single inch to the enemy, only needed to deploy a moderate amount of soldiers, given their miniscule losses. Pherae, on the other hand, had produced cavaliers and paladins whose feats were sung of across Lycia, and thus preferred to utilize a small mobile force to its maximum potential. Although it was said that Ostia and Pherae would never bow to Laus is a heated battle, the sheer difference in numbers may swing the bloody day over Tunly River.

Erik was smug, already playing the most probable outcome in his mind, "We outnumber them over five to one! I will mount their heads atop two pikes and show all of Lycia that Laus is invincible!"

"Sir…" a soldier tried to get his attention, but couldn't shake Erik from his daydream.

"Hmph, that girl is wasted upon my father," Erik said to himself, "Such a lovely maiden, with hair as bright as flame, and such a tender age too! After I finish off Eliwood, I will take a small detour and make her mine! A princess befitting a lord like myself, she'll make a handsome bride!"

"Sir!"

"What is it? Who dares to presume to interrupt me?" Erik thundered.

The soldier flinched, but continued nonetheless, "Our forces are in position. Do you want the pirates to attack as well?

"What? Pirates?" Erik roared, "I will not have the sea scum take my glory away from me! Have them bring that girl, Priscilla, to me from the village she's hiding in. That should give them enough work!"

"Yes, milord."

* * *

After Erik's departing threat, Eliwood and Hector scrambled to alert their comrades. Hearing the report, Marcus, Lowen, and Oswin were buckling into their heavy armor while Rebecca began waxing her bowstring. Dorcas, Bartre, and Guy employed themselves into the busy task of sharpening any dulled weapons. Matthew, with the sharpest eye among them all, was scanning the riverbank in search of foes under Cecilia's orders. Drake himself was watching the ocean tides, deep in thought when Cecilia found him.

"We're almost ready," she reported, standing beside him, "Is anything wrong?"

"Not yet," Drake replied, "Just brooding about the upcoming battle."

"Sir Marcus mentioned earlier that Laus may have bribed several nearby pirate bands to do its bidding," Cecilia recalled as she gazed into the sea, "Do you think they'll move out?"

"The pirates?" Drake laughed, "I doubt it, or if they move, it won't be against us. Pirates are sea bandits, more interested in plunder than actual battle. They'd be more eager to raid any of the outlying villages unaware of this battle. Furthermore, a smug noble like Erik probably wouldn't use them, thinking that such lowly savages are unworthy of being a part of a major battle."

"That's true," Cecilia admitted, "Do we have a rough estimate on our number of foes?"

"That I have," Hector said as he joined the two tacticians, "Laus has churned out nearly two score cavaliers and nearly twice that number of infantry."

"Well over a hundred enemies," Cecilia said with dismay.

Drake barely reacted, merely continuing his vigil over the peaceful oceans, "Do you have the rough organization of the infantry?"

Hector replied, "Matthew managed to sneak across and give us a rough estimate of their foot soldiers. He claimed that it was a devil of a time to count them, since their rank and files were constantly shifting when one group moved faster than the others. The cavaliers are advancing in two waves, a score each. I fail to see how this helps us though."

Cecilia noticed that Drake was smirking, "You have a plan," she said hopefully.

"That I do," Drake said calmly.

Hector looked uncertain for a moment, and then grinned, "Hell with it, why should I worry so? My forte is the joy of combat, I'll leave the thinking to others." At that moment, Oswin tapped Hector on the shoulder, and the two of them left the tacticians to their planning.

"I wonder if one day I'll be a tactician worthy of being accepted by my peers as well," Cecilia murmured.

"You will," Drake said, "But that level of trust between those who lead and those who are led is typically bought after countless blood-soaked fields. If you are set upon this path, do not avert your eyes from the battlefield."

"I won't, but I have much to learn."

"Well, that's what I'm here for, right?"

Matthew chose this moment to interrupt, "Drake, Cecilia! Laus has begun its advance!"

"They don't leave us a moment of peace do they?" Cecilia said.

"That they don't," Drake replied sagely, "Matthew, have you finished the preparations on the southern shore?"

"They're ready," Matthew reported, "Oh, and by the way, Serra needs to speak with you."

Drake frowned. Serra and Merlinus were dispatched to nearby villages to warn the unsuspecting town peoples of the upcoming battle and any potential bandit raids. As per Lord Eliwood's orders, those innocent in this conflict should be spared the majority of the bloodshed.

"Over here!" Serra called out, leading a disgruntled, purple-haired mage who looked oddly familiar.

"Erk?" Drake said, incredulous, "What the devil are you doing here?"

"Need I explain?" Erk merely pointed at Serra, "Listen, I need your help…"

Cecilia and Drake listened as Erk whispered to them in hushed tones. Drake thought for a moment, "I'm afraid we can't help you at the moment, as we have nearly forty Laus cavaliers to deal with. However, about that bridge to the north…"

* * *

Two long lines of Laus cavaliers stampeded towards the Tunly River, separated by approximately two miles. This time-honored formation called for the first line to make contact with the foe, disrupt their ranks, and leave an opening for the secondaries to break through. Two cavalry forces acting like a one-two punch had yet to taste defeat across Elibe with the exception of an equally sized enemy cavalry or a thick phalanx of spears. Since Eliwood and Hector possessed neither, Erik was confident of the outcome and had ordered his heavy horse in a direct attack on their position.

The first line, seeing three wooden bridges before them, repositioned themselves accordingly a dozen yards before the bridges. Across the northern bridge, a fighter, an archer, and a mage were standing guard. The middle pass had two horsemen, a knight, and two axe men armed to the teeth. To the right, the southern crossing only had a pair of swordsmen defending the bridge.

Grinning wolfishly, Commander Velmont distributed his forces. Five lances he would send charging across both the northern and southern bridges, while he would lead the remaining ten soldiers up the middle. With a shout, the first wave of Laus cavaliers stormed forward like a pack of wild hounds.

Those responsible for attacking the southern bridge were wildly optimistic about their chances. Surely their five lances would pincushion the hapless myrmidons before them! When the first destrier set hoof on the bridge, its rider felt nothing more than a small shake of protest. When the last destrier moved onto the bridge, the bridge gave much more than a small shake more like a groan of agony.

With a cry of dismay, four of the cavaliers tumbled into the raging river below as the weakened bridge gave way with a thundering crash. Already weakened by the salt spray and the tides, the southern bridge was barely holding together after Dorcas and Bartre had placed several choice swings with an ax at the foundations. The only surviving knight soon found himself beset by two vengeful swordsmen from both sides. The myrmidon, wielding a curved blade, ducked under his lance thrust and slashed. Puzzled at the lack of pain, the knight was thrown heavily to the ground as his horse collapsed underneath him. He finally comprehended that the myrmidon had only meant to hamstring his steed when the other swordsman stabbed him in the chest.

Those assaulting the northern area fared little better, as could readily be seen from the way five horsemen were writhing in flames atop their burning bridge. Taking yesterday evening's cooking oil from Lowen, Drake and Rebecca had smeared a thin layer of the slippery liquid across the wood. A casually thrown fire spell from Erk had set the entire wooden platform ablaze, along with the doomed enemy standing on it. Driven mad from the hungry flames and harassed by Rebecca's arrows, the terrified horses plunged into the river below, taking their masters with them into the river below.

Ignorant of their comrades' failure, Velmont led his soldiers in a furious charge into the Hector and his group. Given that he had personally led the charge, Velmont was also the beneficiary recipient of Oswin's lance. Unable to check the speed of his horse and buoyed by the momentum of his troops behind him, Velmont watched helplessly as his lance glanced harmlessly off the Oswin's shield while the knight's counterattack pierced his abdomen. As he fell, his last gaze was that of his remaining soldiers being attacked from all sides by all manners of weapons. Another of his knight's fell atop him with two arrows in his chest, and Velmont knew no more.

Clenching a bloody ax in his hand, Hector waded through the fallen enemies around him. To his right, Oswin finished putting a poor soul out of his misery while Serra was tending to Lowen's wounds. Although many of them suffered from various injuries, it was a positive miracle that the entire group survived the encounter against a numerically superior foe. _Mental note to self, _Hector thought, _never doubt Eliwood's word when it comes to skill._ Santaruz may have been pure luck, but what Drake had just accomplished definitely vindicated his ability to command.

As Hector walked towards the tactician, he could see Cecilia and Eliwood congratulating the man for this feat, "Nicely done!" Hector called out.

The trio turned to face him, "This battle isn't over yet," Drake remarked, "We still have the second half to deal with."

"That's true," Cecilia agreed, "And in our current state of exhaustion, we won't be able to hold them off."

"Our location is no longer defensible," Eliwood said as he looked around him, "With only one bridge remaining to us, the enemy will throw its entire force here. Most of us are injured, and even if Serra patches us up, I doubt we can hold them."

"By the way, where is the second wave?" Hector asked, "They should've been here by now."

"It'd appear that Erik made a slight mistake in his calculations," Drake mused aloud, "I wager he supposed we would flee rather than give battle. The other cavaliers must have moved northwards to the Jorgen Pass, then sweep east to our position. The Jorgen Pass is the only path that would enable us to bypass Laus and escape towards Ostia."

"Did he believe that we are all cowards like him?" Hector scoffed.

"Evidently," Drake grinned, "Anyways, the remainder of our preparations must be complete before the second wave comes knocking. For that, I believe we captured some of the surviving Laus destriers?"

"We did, but what do you intend to do with them?" Cecilia asked.

"You'll soon see," came the enigmatic reply, "Tell Merlinus to set up half a dozen extra tents over here, and tell Matthew, Guy, and Erk to begin their part of the operation as well."

* * *

A candle mark later, another detachment of Laus cavaliers arrived and halted before the last remaining bridge over the Tunly River. Captain Creimor, of the Laus 2nd Mounted Division, peered curiously at the scene that lay before him. Two of the three bridges had collapsed, several dead men and horses lay strewn about the opposite side of river near a handful of erect tents, and interestingly enough, not a single foe could be seen.

"Captain!" One of his subordinates reported, "No sight of the two lords on our side of the river."

"Have you combed the riverbanks and forests?"

"Yes sir, but we only came upon two men chopping firewood," the soldier replied, "Would you like to question them, sir?"

"Wait, do you hear something?" Creimor said suddenly.

The soldier frowned, "I believe I do. Something like steel clattering against one another… Wait, but that means!"

"Our comrades are still fighting over there!" Creimor drew his sword, "Laus! To the aid!"

Striking spurs to their mounts, the captain led his men over the bridge towards the assembled tents, where a frightful din of steel could be heard, growing steadily louder as they approached the tents. Surrounding the area, Creimor burst through the tents and gaped in shock.

Four destriers could be seen, tied by their tails in a cross-like fashion. Hung at the intersection of the two pieces of rope were half a dozen swords, which created the clamor of steel when the horses strained to move. Gazing towards the ground, Creimor saw that the horses were after some sort of food. Marcus had always remarked that Lowen was quite possibly the most dangerous man in the outfit: his cooking could either stuff you to the point that you couldn't fight or could entice you to the point that your enemy would gladly surrender for a fabulous last meal. Evidently, Lowen could perform a similar feat with horses, since a pile of scented carrots and candied apples lay just beyond the reach of each destrier. Whenever the destriers strained to eat what lay just beyond them, the struggle traveled along the rope that connected them to shake the steel weapons.

Creimor threw his sword to the ground in anger, "What the hell is this?"

"Why did the bastards do this?"

"Cowards, every last one of them," another soldier avowed.

"Or is it just to get our attention?"

A chill ran down Creimor's spine when the soldier suggested that, and a blinding revelation hit him square in the face. Stumbling outside, he darted a look at the bridge and screamed in rage.

The two ax men that his men had detained earlier had just finished chopping the bridge into itty-bitty little fine pieces. One of them raised his ax and roared, "Good day, my fine lads, I am Bartre the Brave. My old grandmother has more brains than the pack of you combined, and she's dead and buried for three years!"

As the fighters left, Creimor shook with fury. The devilish diversion had worked, and he was stuck on the wrong side of the river with all his men while the next closest crossing was a half days ride away!

* * *

In a village several miles south of Castle Laus, a damsel in distress was still waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue her. The village has always chaffed under the iron hand of Marquis Darin, and now it has become almost unbearable with the marquis' recently acquired lust for the red-haired princess that dwells amongst them. Fortunately for Priscilla, the villagers' hatred of Marquis Darin managed to grant her asylum. Unfortunately for the village, several pirates were outside demanding entrance. All the villagers could do was close the gates and pray for deliverance. Priscilla was standing with the village elder listening to the rising cacophony outside the walls.

"This is all my fault," she said bitterly, "If I had gone along with the marquis, all of you wouldn't need to suffer like this."

"Calm yourself, little one," the elder replied, "Even if you had gone to Castle Laus, the marquis wouldn't have lifted a finger to help us. Our village has long since despised Marquis Darin, and his son Erik isn't much of an improvement."

"But still…" Priscilla started, and then tilted her head to listen, "What is that?"

As the two peered over the walls, they beheld four pirates lay dead or dying on the ground with two swordsmen and a mage standing victoriously over them. The pirates, foolishly thinking that no would-be rescuers would save the doomed village, were caught completely unprepared by the backstabbing Matthew and Guy. Two of them had fallen before the other pair even knew what was going on. Erk fried another one before Matthew and Guy pounced upon the last hapless pirate.

"Who are you?" The elder called out, "We have no business with Laus!"

Matthew chuckled, "I thought you said they know you, Erk?"

Erk turned red with embarrassment, "Err, I…"

"Erk?" Priscilla said, "Is that you?"

Erk glared at Matthew, "I told you so."

"Alright, I stand corrected."

A moment later, the village gates opened and Priscilla came riding on her mare. Dismounting with some help from Erk, she thanked all three of them for lending their aid. Erk tried to play the gentlemen while Matthew didn't seem to care, but Guy could only stare at the goddess before him.

Matthew grinned evilly before clapping Guy on the back, "So, Guy is a man after all!"

Guy colored and glared at Matthew, "Why must you always make my life hell?"

Matthew seemed to consider this for a moment, "Because it is fun?"

Erk and Priscilla watched Guy chase after Matthew with a drawn saber for a few seconds, "I think we better head back to the main army," said Erk, "Before one of those idiots cuts themselves on that shiny needle."

When Erk, Priscilla, Guy and Matthew arrived at the rendezvous, the other members of the outfit were already waiting. Bartre was raucously sharing his successful ambush with Lowen and Serra over a mug of well-deserved ale that Merlinus doled out. His laughter quickly turned sour when Serra reminded him of their little gambling debt. All things considered, morale was quite high amongst the little war party, considering their recent victory. Excusing himself from Matthew and Guy, Erk led Priscilla to the two lords and their advisors.

"Success," Erk reported with a grin, "It was as you predicted, Drake. The pirates only had few in numbers and were completely oblivious to our approach. I'd like to present the person I was escorting, Priscilla."

Priscilla curtseyed politely, "I thank you for your assistance, my lords, otherwise I may be held in Castle Laus now."

Eliwood bowed, "It is nothing, please do not think much of it."

After Erk and Priscilla left, Eliwood turned to Drake, "What should be our next move?"

"We have carried the day and can now retreat with full honor," Oswin noted.

"That is true," Cecilia agreed, "We have won a sound victory today and the enemy is reeling, but we lack the sufficient force to combat Laus' infantry forces. The enemy is simply too numerous for us to deal with."

"I have sent a runner to Ostia, however," Hector interrupted, "A contingent of Ostian knights will arrive at Laus to quell this uprising. We could leave this to them, but I am loath to allow Erik such an easy end."

"That goes for me too," Eliwood said crossly, which was quite a contrast to his normally calm composure, "But what choice do we have?"

"Simple," Drake said calmly, "We attack, full frontal assault."

Those gathered around him stared at him as if he had grown horns, "Have you lost your mind?"

"I believe I have full control of my senses," Drake replied dryly, "But I do not deviate from my suggestion."

"Please, Sir Drake," Marcus said, "Explain this mystery to us. We stand outnumbered nearly ten to one, and you are telling us to attack them head on?"

"A true master never reveals his secrets before the anointed time," Drake said, "Now listen carefully…"

His ring of listeners listened incredulously to his plan of battle, "That has to be the most audacious thing I've ever heard of," Oswin said.

"That's why it'll work," Drake replied.

After the group dispersed, Cecilia caught up with Drake, "Sometimes, your ideas are terrifying," she began, "I doubt anyone in the history of Elibe could've matched your daring or cunning save perhaps the infamous Hammer… Oh…" Cecilia clapped a hand over her mouth when Drake leveled a piercing stare at her, "My apologies…"

"Do not ever associate that cursed name with me again," he warned, "Now come, we have a battle to win."

* * *

To say that a certain Erik of the Laus variety was furious would be a sad understatement. In the brief span of five candle marks, the entire Laus cavalry force under his command had vanished into thin air without even a hint of success or defeat. Furthermore, the pirates that he had dispatched to bring in the lovely Priscilla had some how wound up dead outside the gates of a defenseless village!

"Why am I surrounded by bungling idiots?" Erik ranted and frothed, "How can you miserable curs turn such an easy battle into an utter catastrophe?"

The soldiers around him flinched, "My apologies, milord," one of them began, "But most of us were only recently recruited into the army, and…"

Erik silenced him with an angry slap, "No excuses!" Erik barked, "Now someone get me word on where the hell Eliwood is!"

A messenger stumbled before Erik, "Milord, you're not going to believe this…"  
"What is it?"

"The Pherae and Ostia lords are… Are…"

"What about it?" Erik asked gleefully, "Have you found their wretchedly maimed carcasses?"

The messenger gulped, "No, sir, they are in fact charging at us this instant."

"What?" Erik smashed his iron gauntlet into the messenger's face while his guards blanched, "What about my cavalry? Where are Creimor and Velmont? How the hell did they pass through them alive? We outnumbered them four to one, damn it!"

The messenger spat out a bloody tooth and glowered at Erik, "I don't know sir, I'm just the runner!"

"Curses, rally the troops and prepare for battle!" Erik screamed, "At least we still have an overwhelming tide of soldiers!" He left cackling with joy of personally slaying Eliwood and Hector.

Behind him, the soldiers were looking at one another with doubt mounting on their faces, "W-what are we going to do? Those lords just stomped Laus' best knights outnumbered by such a wide margin. What can we do after only a week's worth of training?"

"Hell with this," one of the soldiers grumbled, "I didn't ask for this, I'd much rather be minding my farm in peace."

"Aye, me too," another one replied, "Listen, if only that Erik wasn't here…"

"Bastard that he is," the messenger said darkly, "I hope the foreign lords give him the hiding he deserves."

A quarter of a candle mark later, Erik had his men assembled in ragged lines behind him. Nearly a hundred yards ahead of him, Eliwood and his companions were closing in on their position, weapons drawn and prepared for combat. Seeing the pitiful numbers arrayed against him, Erik laughed at the sight.

"What could he possibly accomplish with only a dozen men?" Erik scoffed, "All units, follow me! Whoever slays Eliwood I will knight on the spot!"

Erik urged his fiery steed forward with his lance at rest and charged directly towards Hector. Blinded by glory and pride, his arrogance carried him straight into his enemies, unaware that barely even a quarter of his army had followed him. A brief moment before his lance would've split Hector in two, his aim was jarred out of line when his destrier stumbled and collapsed. The two stout axe men beside Hector had slashed off the front legs of his stallion, throwing Erik heavily from the saddle. Hauled upright with brutal force, Erik opened his mouth to shout his indignation when a blow from behind knocked him unconscious.

As the light faded from his eyes, Erik could dimly hear someone speaking, "Drake, as surely as the gods live, you have no peer in all of Elibe."

When Erik recovered consciousness, he found in a humiliating kneeling position with a dirty rag stuck in his mouth. And the infernal Eliwood and Hector were standing right before his eyes chatting away as if nothing had happened!

Someone evidently noticed that he was awake and got Hector's attention. With a dismissive wave, Hector gave an order, "Remove the gag."

As soon as the filthy cloth was wrenched from his lips, Erik bellowed, "You treacherous fiends, my father will have your heads for this!"

"Your father," Hector commented, "Appears to have abandoned the castle and you as well. I seriously doubt he will come back and save your miserable hide."

"T-that can't be!" Erik screamed hoarsely, "Father would never abandon me!"

"Take a look around," a new voice belonging to a young man commanded.

With a derisive glance around him, Erik was about to launch into another tirade of insults when he suddenly noticed the throne in front of him. Above the throne, the Laus crest could easily be seen on the banner that hung overhead.

"T-this…" Erik stammered, "What trickery is this? This can't be…"

"Yes," a young woman beside him answered him, "This is Castle Laus, which Marquis Darin abandoned."

Fumbling for words, Erik choked out, "Then, where are my men? Where are those cowards hiding? I had you within my iron grip and they left me on the field of battle!"

"Iron grip? Paper-thin, more like," Hector scoffed.

"I am Drake, Laus lordling," the young man said, "And I shall explain why you lost the battle to a besieged and undermanned army. You lost the heart of your people and the inheritance of your forefathers. No marquis or lord, no matter how powerful, endures with the scorn of his people weighing upon them. Besides for your seasoned cavaliers, the remnants of your army were peasants who scarcely had any training and were press-ganged into military service. You expect to find loyalty amongst those you threatened?"

"I must admit," the young woman added, "I was not able to make the connection between your infantry's pathetic organization and their lack of training, but once Drake pointed it out, it became quite clear."

Erik struggled to respond, but was interrupted by a knight barging in, "Lord Hector and Lord Eliwood, there are three groups of soldiers headed towards Castle Laus!"

Erik threw his head back and laughed, "Fools, Laus soldiers have come to liberate the castle!"

Eliwood looked worried for a second, "Drake, Cecilia! We can't hold the castle against a siege without supplies!"

"Stay your swords," Drake said calmly, "Ostia will take care of this matter for us."

"Ostia?" Erik asked.

Scarcely a second had passed when Matthew came in with fresh news, "No worries, milord, the Laus cavaliers and mercenaries have fled at the sight of Ostia troops moving towards the castle. Not even they dare challenge the might of Ostia's impregnable armored knights!"

Hector turned back to Erik, "Now that that matter has been dealt with…"

Erik's shoulders slumped in defeat, "Damn…"

Eliwood hauled Erik upright by his collar, "Tell me, where is my father?"

Erik smirked slightly, "Marquis Pherae is no longer here. He was several weeks ago, in conference with my father regarding rebellion against Ostia. Your father approved of the idea, but did not approve of Ephidel and the Black Fang assassins."

"He what?" Eliwood cried out in dismay.

"Ephidel?" Hector asked in the same moment, "Black Fang?"

Drake and Cecilia remained silently absorbing the new information gleaned from Erik, though Cecilia noticed that Drake became slightly pale at the mention of the Black Fang.

"Ephidel," Erik said with distaste, "There is something dark about that man. Ever since he came, my father was a changed man. In the past, he would only dream of rebellion, but after Ephidel, he actually started putting plans in action. Marquis Pherae left shortly after a sharp disagreement with my father."

"Where is Marquis Darin now?" Hector demanded.

"Hell if I know," Erik spat back.

"Heading west or north would be foolish, as it would run straight into the teeth of Ostia's defenses. We just came from the east, so little chance of that…" Cecilia stopped, "Lord Eliwood, why are you so pale?"

"Caelin…" Eliwood said horrified, "Caelin lies right between Laus and Badon, and is relatively undermanned since the inheritance dispute last year."

_A perfect target for a marquis on the run, _Drake thought grimly.

* * *

_Well, I believe this has been the longest chapter up to this point. Lyn will be reintroduced next chapter, and soon they'll move on to Valor! (With a bunch of twists I throw in, of course.) Thank you for reading and review if you have the time!_


	11. Siege of Caelin

_Author's Corner:_

_Hm, now that college is out and summer is in, I find myself deep in the middle of a full-time summer job. Which means, you guessed it, updating just went out the window again. I'll try to find extra time to make sure I can keep up with the chapters._

_**Phantom Kensai **– I'm glad you enjoyed the story so far, and it'll only get better. In regards to the name 'Mark,' I mentioned several chapters back that you'll be seeing this name again, albeit the character is using a false alias to avoid enemies. Last time I checked, Caelin was to the southeast of Laus, so in a roundabout way, Darin fled Laus via Caelin. (OK, I'm using the Elibe map from FE6, in which Caelin is nowhere on the map… Everything is done from memory.)_

_**Lao Who Mai **– Well organized maybe, devious perhaps, but if you're claiming this is easy… Well, I'll just have to disabuse you of that notion._

_**Dude** – Some how it just seems odd to say 'dude' to a review, but whatever… Yes, Lyn is back this chapter, and the level of mayhem will subsequently rise again._

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 11 **

**Siege of Caelin**

"Milady Lyndis," Kent began, "Rushing in and exposing ourselves to the outnumbered foe is hardly the manner we should adopt in mounting a rescue. I beg you to reconsider."

"I agree," Sain added, "I know Marquis Hausen is still in the vile clutches of the Laus soldiers, but if we fall, no one will remain to help him!"

Lyn was exasperated, though she knew her knights spoke well, "I am well aware of that! However, that doesn't change the fact I'm sitting here doing nothing and unable to aid my grandfather!"

"I'm sure Wil is fully capable of gleaning some information from the nearby villages," Kent pointed out, "We must be patient a little longer, milady."

As if hearing their conversation, Wil brushed his way through the forestry and stopped before Lyn and her small group, raggedly drawing in deep breaths. A short while later, Florina landed beside Lyn, signifying that there were no enemies in their immediate surroundings.

"Well?"

"There are several squads of Laus guards scattered around Castle Caelin," Wil said after a moment's pause, "Besides that, Laus has constructed two opposing ballista platforms to fortify their holdings."

"Assuming we take the most direct path," Lyn asked, "How many guards would we most likely face?"

Wil shrugged, "Half a hundred, maybe."

Sain cursed, "We can't even make a bee-line charge for the castle with those ballistae in place!"

"But why is Laus here in the first place?" Lyn wondered, "Caelin has never bothered Laus in the past."

"I believe I can answer that," Kent replied, "I managed to overhear some of the invading soldiers' gossip about a Pherae lord driving them from Castle Laus. By that I'd assume Lord Eliwood has been quite active in his dealings with Laus."

"Eliwood in Laus," Lyn considered, "If we could get word to him…"

"I'll go!" Florina volunteered suddenly, "Since I have Huey, I can easily move over difficult terrain and contact Lord Eliwood."

Kent and Sain looked at one another while Lyn exclaimed, "Florina! It's too dangerous!"

Florina bit her lip, but stared Lyn straight in the eye, "I-I'm a full fledged pegasus knight now, and I need to start performing the duties required of me. I've met Lord Eliwood in the past, and I want to help Lord Hausen too!"

Lyn's eyes softened, "Very well, it's up to you. Be careful, Florina!"

* * *

_April 6th, on route to Caelin,_

_With two days of forced march behind us, our force has made good time in entering Caelin's provincial boundaries, but I fear for the focus of the soldiers. Forced march is ideal for getting armies from one location to another, but the exhaustion may be a key factor in deciding the upcoming battle. Nevertheless, morale remains high amongst our crew; well prepared to meet whatever Laus can throw at us. I dare say that our victory at Laus has established our confidence and shattered the enemy's courage, but will that be enough to wrest Castle Caelin from Laus?_

"What are you writing?" Cecilia asked.

"Memoirs," Drake replied, "For my retirement."

Cecilia raised an eyebrow, "You're kidding, right? You're too young to worry about retirement plans."

"I'm older than I look," Drake said, "Who knows, someone may be interested in what I've done in the past."

"What could you possibly have done in your thirty years of life that someone would pay money to figure out?" Cecilia asked, incredulous.

"You never know, you never know," Drake said mysteriously, moving ahead in the column. Cecilia stared after his retreating form. _He is absolutely shrouded in mystery, _Cecilia thought, _every time I seem to unearth some link to his history, he scuttles off into a little corner and the trail goes cold again._ One day, she vowed, she'd uncover the true face behind the illusive character that called himself Drake of Etruria.

"Caelin!" Matthew announced at the head of the column.

The host came to a stop atop a rising bluff overlooking the valley that slid between the path and Castle Caelin itself. Dotted throughout the valley were various Caelin guard stations manned by Laus soldiers. However, given that the majority of Laus' cavalry and fresh recruits were decimated at the Battle of Laus, the soldiers here were facing the same problem Caelin had: too many holes and too few men to plug them.

"Rider overhead!" Rebecca shouted, "Approaching our position!"

"Hostile?" Erk asked, readying a spell tome.

"I don't think so," Matthew interrupted, "Laus appears to be firing arrows trying to bring that one down. I'd say an ally at best or an innocent at the least."

"Who could it be?" Cecilia wondered.

Drake took a long glance upwards, "Lord Hector? Stretch out your hands please."

"Like this?" Hector obeyed.

"Good, now be prepared to catch someone."

"What?

A slight scream rang out and someone fell from the high flying pegasus. Adhering to Drake's estimation, said falling person fell right into the hands of Hector. Sputtering with surprise and grunting from exertion, Hector almost dropped his unexpected bundle, but found himself unable to tear his gaze from her brilliant eyes.

"Err…" They both started before the orchid haired girl blushed furiously.

"Good now set Florina down and prepare to catch the next one," Drake commanded.

Gingerly setting Florina on her feet, Hector looked upwards, "What the heck, another girl falling from the sky? Oh, crap…"

Thud! One worried pegasus landed squarely on Hector's back, knocking the blue-haired lord flat on his face. Looking inquisitively about, Huey found Florina standing with her mouth open and happily pranced over, stamping all over Hector's armor. Said lord raised his head and spat out a mouthful of grass and winced, "Drake, I'm going to kill you!"

"Yeah, yeah, later," Drake waved dismissively, "Now what brings you here, Florina?"

Florina seemed to recollect herself, "Drake? Is it really you? Is Lord Eliwood with you? Lyn! She needs..."

As Eliwood approached, he found Drake with a hand over Florina's mouth, "Stop. Breathe. Speak slowly."

"Lyn and a few others managed to get out of the castle," Florina said, "Laus has captured the castle and we are unable to reach the castle gates with the ballista in place."

Cecilia frowned, "With the ballista in place, our group will be a large target moving towards Castle Caelin. However, this Lyn is probably on her way to the castle right now, and if we waste time sacking the ballista platforms…"

"Lyn will be overwhelmed by Laus forces," Eliwood said grimly.

"Oh, no," Florina gasped, "I'm too late… Lyn!"

"So who the hell is Lyn?" Hector asked grumpily.

"The noble lady of Caelin," Eliwood replied, "Drake aided her during the inheritance dispute last year."

"And how do you know about that?" Hector asked pointedly.

"Uh…"

"Long story," Drake said, "Tell me, Florina, does old Brandon the Miller still make his weekly shipments to the castle?"

"He used to," Florina replied, "He has refused to bring his wares to the invaders, though. How did you know about Brandon?"

"He was a veritable fountain of information during the Caelin campaign last year," Drake replied, "Now listen, I need to speak with him as soon as possible. Cecilia, could you…"

"Handle the ballista?" Cecilia finished, "It'll be my pleasure. I'll see you at Castle Caelin."

* * *

Lyn and Wil remained concealed behind two broad oak trees near the castle gate while Kent and Sain hid their mounts in the undergrowth. So far, Lyn and her companions had managed to ambush a few Laus patrol groups, leaving a trail of fallen foes in their wake. However, their time was limited, given that another patrol could walk along any moment and raise the alarm.

"We must find a way into the castle," Wil muttered, "But the only feasible path is directly through the main gate."

The main gate of Castle Caelin was built in the typical fashion of Elibe's castles. Just inside the portcullis, a heavy wheel directed the stout drawbridge while a chain held down by a switch hook operated the portcullis itself. Currently, the drawbridge was down and the portcullis upraised, leaving a clear path into the castle. The catch was that a dozen Laus soldiers were in attendance, including several armored knights.

"If we made a dash for it," Sain said, "We might make it into the castle…"

"But we'd never make it back out alive," Kent observed, "We simply don't have the numbers to hold off such a foe. Hello, what's that?"

A large ox drawn wagon was approaching castle, slowly meandering up the beaten path. Animal skins covered the cargo from human eyes, but there was no mistaking the old man that was directing his team of oxen.

"That's old Brandon the Miller!" Wil whispered.

"The Laus soldiers must have threatened his family to force him to supply the castle," Lyn said gritting her teeth, "Cowards, I shall make them pay for harming my people."

Bauker, the knight commanding the exterior defenses, sauntered smugly up to the old miller, who stopped the wagon in front of the drawbridge. Standing before the old man, Bauker sneered at him, "Not so brave now, are we? Just have to hold a sword to your cute little granddaughter, and you'll do anything we say."

Brandon's face did not betray even a sliver of fear, but instead colored in anger, "Damnable curs, in my youth I could single-handedly smite down the lot of you. Now out of my way, I have to deliver your supplies."

"By all means," Bauker smirked, "Over the drawbridge with you!"

Cracking his whip, Brandon urged his team forward over the drawbridge. When the wagon was underneath the portcullis, something cracked and gave way, causing the wagon to come to a full stop.

Getting impatient, the soldier manning the drawbridge controls advanced forward and angrily demanded, "Come on, hurry up!"

"I think an axle broke loose," Brandon said unhurriedly, "Let me check."

Shuffling slowly to the two wheels on the wagon, Brandon abruptly pulled out a small hatchet from beneath his cloak and sheared through one wheel in one swift stroke. As the wagon groaned and tilted to one side, the Laus soldier operating the portcullis panicked, fumbling the switch and letting fall the steel lattice. The portcullis roared down, but was stopped by the wagon underneath it.

"What the hell are you doing?" The soldier standing next to Brandon screamed, "Get your wagon… Argh!"

Bauker turned around at the terrified scream and beheld three ax men spring from the concealed cargo and strike down the unprepared guards. While Bauker was still summoning his wits about him, the three mysterious warriors had already secured the gate against his forces. Growling with rage, Bauker directed the remaining dozen soldiers to join him and retake the castle gates. Out of the wagon, a red-haired swordsman and another armored knight emerged. Swords, axes, and lances clashed against one another in a furious melee across the drawbridge.

"Eliwood!" Lyn said in disbelief, "Now, attack! Corner the enemy between us!"

Sain and Kent did not need further urging. Setting their lances in rest, the two of them galloped out of cover and smashed into their foes from the rear. By the time Lyn and Wil joined in the battle, the outflanked enemy was largely defeated and thrown into the river.

"Eliwood!" Lyn gasped out, "How, how did you manage to find us?"

"Florina," Eliwood said as he greeted Lyn warmly, "Allow me to introduce my companions. Dorcas you've already met. This is Bartre, a traveling mercenary, and Hector, one of my most stalwart friends. Oswin, the knight, is one of Hector's most trusted retainers."

"Greetings, Lord Eliwood," Kent said, dismounting, "But how did you know about Brandon?"

"I warrant they never heard of me in their life," Brandon chuckled, "But me old friend remembered." He gestured at the new figure that emerged from the ruined wagon.

Lyn's eyes widened, _It can't be… But it is!_

"Drake!" Lyn exclaimed happily.

Wil grinned, "I should've known that our invincible tactician would be the one to come up with this ploy."

"A truce to your flattery," Drake said with a small grin of his own, "Long time no see everyone."

"Too long," Lyn murmured.

"Before we catch up on what everyone has done in the past year," Drake said as he pointed towards the castle, "Shall we?"

"Awaiting your command," Sain replied.

* * *

Inside Castle Caelin, Bernard, Knight Commander of Laus, was quite vexed to hear that the castle has already been breached by Caelin troops. Bernard was a capable soldier and a proven knight, but by the time he received word that Bauker had fallen it had already been too late. Stragglers who managed to slip in also reported the grave news that the perimeter ballista platforms have been taken by the enemy. With Marquis Darin and Lord Ephidel having already left the castle, it was solely Bernard's men that still held Castle Caelin for Laus.

"So the besiegers have become the besieged," Bernard said wearily, "Can we expect any manner of reinforcements?"

"Unlikely sir," one of the soldiers reported, "Even if survivors of the Laus cavalry attempt to reach our position, the enemy still commands the ballista…"

"So little hope of rescue, eh?" Bernard said, "That is fine, we shall show them the true strength of the Laus military!"

"Yes, sir!"

"To your stations," Bernard commanded.

Inwardly, every Laus soldier dreaded the encounter with Eliwood and his seasoned mercenaries. Although the majority of the garrison had not faced Eliwood's forces outside of Castle Laus, rumors of the crushing defeat inflicted upon Erik circulated amongst the troops. Even Bernard himself doubted that he could win that engagement with the numbers stacked so heavily against him, and Pherae's tactician had accomplished the monumental feat without even suffering one casualty.

"If that demon commands this battle, we are lost," Bernard muttered to himself. Nevertheless, Bernard was determined to salvage as much morale as possible amongst his men, and publicly announcing their defeat certainly would not do that.

"I must send more guards to the dungeons," Bernard said suddenly, "If we have a prisoner revolt on top of an invading foe, we simply don't have the men to hold them down."

"We'll try, sir," another soldier replied, but we don't have enough men!"

"Abandon the exterior walls," Bernard commanded, "We can't defend them anyways. Pull every available man within the castle to defend the throne room. Any soldier without a post is to be assigned to the dungeons."

"Understood, sir."

"At all costs, do not allow the Caelin soldiers to recover the armory."

"Yes, sir. Oh, and by the way, one of the prisoners wish to aid us in defending the castle."

"Really," Bernard replied, "Allow him to, provided he isn't one of Caelin's guards, of course."

"Where should we station him?"

"Have him defend the hallway leading to the dungeons. If he makes contact with the enemy first, the dungeon guards can help him."

Where were Marquis Darin and Lord Ephidel when you need them the most?

* * *

"Priscilla just brought a message," Hector said as he joined Lyn, Eliwood, and Drake, "Cecilia has the ballista under control and will divert the attention of any incoming Laus reinforcements."

"Which leaves us the duty of retaking Castle Caelin without reinforcements of our own," Eliwood pointed out.

"Unfortunately, that is so," Priscilla said, "Florina has spotted several Laus cavaliers loitering around the area. Rebecca fired a ballista bolt to scare them off, but there is no telling how many more are out there."

"If we can retake Castle Caelin quickly enough and unite Caelin, those stragglers won't be much of a threat," Lyn said calmly, though she was looking at Drake.

Drake considered this for a moment, "That'd depend on how many Laus soldiers are still holding this castle."

"From our estimation," Kent replied, "I'd venture to say no more than a score and a half."

"So they outnumber us by three to one," Hector said, "We've faced worse odds before."

"We'd even the odds if we had the support of Caelin's soldiers," Drake said, "I believe the Caelin soldiers who were captured by Laus were forced into the dungeons?"

"They probably were," Sain said, "We managed to confirm that tidbit from one of the servants."

"We'll rescue the captives first," Drake instructed, "After re-arming them, our forces can take back the throne room en mass."

"Hey, we might actually outnumber them this time," Bartre said as the small party moved off.

"This'll probably the only time," Dorcas reminded his comrade.

Led by Kent and Lyn, Eliwood and his companions swiftly navigated through halls of Castle Caelin towards the dungeon. Unlike Castle Laus' extravagance and luxury, Castle Caelin could almost be described as spartan in decoration. However, the difference in material wealth also showed the distinction in efficiency and dedication to craft. In Castle Laus, the empty suits of armor that stood silent vigil over the walkways were always lined with gold or silver, a testament to the ill-gotten gains that Laus nobles leeched from their people. The frugal armor in Castle Caelin, however, bore marks of battle from previous generations. It is said that every suit of armor in Castle Caelin once belonged to a valiant Caelin knight who gave his life in the name of duty. It was a knight's dream and eternal glory to have the Caelin marquis encase the deceased warrior's armor in Castle Caelin, a reminder to future knights of the undying valor of the fallen.

Entering the last corridor, Lyn came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a crimson-haired mercenary sharpening his sword. The man calmly raised his eyes and gazed from face to face, finally resting on Hector.

"So you've come at last, Hector of Ostia."

Hector frowned, "Who are you?"

"I am Raven, and I will have your lifeblood stain my sword today."

"You're welcome to try," Hector said grimly, hefting his ax.

The two combatants would've thrown themselves upon one another had not a female voice interrupted them, "Lord brother?"

Raven halted immediately and his eyes zeroed in on the breathless face that just rounded the corner, "P-Priscilla? What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you after I left Caerleon," Priscilla said, "I would never have found you without their aid."

"Them?" Raven pointed at the lords, "They assisted you?"

"Yes," Priscilla nodded, "Otherwise I would be in the clutches of Marquis Darin by now."

"That jackal," Raven said softly, "How dare he…"

Drake coughed, "As much as I hate to interrupt this tearful reunion, could the two of you do this elsewhere? We're sort of in a hurry here."

"And who are you to order me around?" Raven asked.

Drake's eyes flashed for a second, his gaze so terrible that everyone around him involuntarily took a step back. His normal calm tone was exchanged for one that promised wrath and ruin as he spoke, "I hold your sister in my hand."

To everyone's surprise, Raven staggered back as if struck before falling to one knee on the carpet floor. Disbelief was written all over his features as he muttered so softly that scarcely anyone heard him, "The Curse…"

"You will join us and lend us your aid." It was not a question.

"As you wish…" Raven replied.

Drake's eyes did not cease their merciless gaze, "The next room, you know what must be done. They will not be prepared to stand against you."

"I hear and obey," Raven said, before leaving the corridor and turning towards the dungeons.

After Raven left, Drake shook his head slightly and turned his eyes back towards a shocked Lyn and friends. Drake's eyes once again wore their placid look as he raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"W-what…" Lyn stopped and tried again, "What did you just do?"

"Pushed the right buttons, that's all," Drake said as the sounds of slaughter could be heard coming from the dungeons.

On the other side of the closed door, Raven was breathing heavily, drenched in the blood of his fallen foes. Around him, half a dozen unprepared Laus guards had paid the price for underestimating him. Behind bars, the Caelin soldiers could only gape at the havoc he had wrecked in a few short moments. The priest, however, was praying for the souls of the dead.

"Raven, what is the meaning of this?" One of the soldiers demanded, "You just sided with Laus, and now you slay their men?"

"I'm a mercenary," Raven replied, "I serve whoever pays the highest coin."

"Sellswords, can't trust any of them," one of the soldiers growled as Raven severed the lock that held the prison door. After the soldiers left, Raven turned to the priest, "Come, Lucius."

"What made you change your mind?" Lucius asked.

"My sister," Raven lied, "I wish to pay back my sister's debt before I slay my enemy. After all, it is easier to stab him in the back if I am closer to him, no?"

"…If you see it that way…" Lucius said.

* * *

Bernard, though competent and unflappable, was completely out of his depth as he found his forces routed in the throne room. Naturally, Caelin soldiers knew the layout of the castle far better than he did, and they chose the perfect opportunity to launch a surprise attack from behind. While Eliwood and Hector had led a frontal attack into the throne room and Bernard sent his forces to engage them, Lyn had slipped through a secret corridor with Caelin's guards and struck the confused Laus forces in the rear. While the Caelin guards were exhausted and barely holding their weapons upright, the sheer numbers they added tilted the battle radically in their favor. Lyn was slashing down soldier after soldier with her Mani Katti while Hector and Eliwood were jointly forcing Bernard back. Caught between the two forces intent on his destruction, Bernard's fate was sealed.

After a quarter of a candle mark's worth of fierce swordplay, Bernard alone stood in a ring of his foes. Wounded in a dozen places, his shattered lance fell from his bloody grip onto the floor below. Unable to support the ponderous weight of his armor any longer, Bernard fell on his knees before his conquerors.

"Do you yield?" Eliwood asked.

"Never," Bernard rasped, "I am a knight of Laus, and I shall serve Laus to the end."

"Even if you know your marquis is corrupt?" Hector asked.

"Even if Marquis Darin led me to hell itself, I will follow him. A true knight follows his liege lord's orders regardless of conscience and consequence."

Oswin shook his head, "Spoken like a true knight, a pity we served opposing sides."

Bernard chuckled, "Death is a just ending for Laus' brutality, Sir Oswin of Ostia. Yet before I die, a boon I beg of the lords."

"We will grant it," Lyn said, "Provided you tell me where my grandfather is."

"He is in the next room behind the throne," Bernard said, "Barely alive after Lord Ephidel smote him."

Lyn did not hear any more as she hurried to see her beloved grandfather. Only Hector and Eliwood remained to judge Bernard.

"Your boon we will grant," Eliwood said, "Provided you do not ask for life."

"Beg mercy of the enemy?" Bernard said, "That would be unworthy. I ask only to be facing towards Laus when I die. I shall not fall with my eyes facing any other direction."

"So be it," Hector said, gesturing for the guards to remove the man.

"Gramercy," Bernard said as he limped to his doom.

After Bernard left with his executioners, a female thief entered the throne room and bowed to Lord Hector, "Lord Hector, fare you well?"

"Well enough Leila, if your Matthew didn't shorten my life every passing day," Hector growled.

"Hey, I resent that!" Matthew's voice echoed out from the other room.

Leila giggled, "I see he hasn't changed."

"What news do you have?" Hector asked.

"News of Marquis Darin's departure," she reported, "Darin is headed for the Isle of Valor, south of Badon. I currently am unable to ascertain why he is headed for that destination, but Ephidel seems to be the reason."

"Ephidel," Eliwood said, "What can you tell us about him?"

Leila paused, "He is simply, inhuman. He has dark, jet black hair and a pair of disturbing golden eyes. His skin is pale as if forged of marble, and his emotions are similar. Neither smiling nor frowning, he is what is driving Darin in his plans. I have no further information on him, though."

"Are you certain that Darin is headed for Badon?"

"Positive," Leila replied, "I overheard them making plans to board a ship at Badon to head directly for the Dread Isle. How they procured a ship I don't know, since no ship in Badon will willingly sail near the Dread Isle, regardless of how large the reward is."

"One more question," Cecilia said as she entered the throne room, "Who are the Black Fang?"

"The Black Fang is an assassin group that originated in Bern," Leila explained, "Originally, they were the servants of the people, eradicating corrupt lords, government officials, etc. However, recently, for some unknown reason, they have lent their aid to Marquis Darin and his foolish plans of rebellion."

"Thank you, that'll be all," Cecilia said as she thought, _So why does Drake pale whenever someone mentions the Black Fang? Surely he isn't a lord traveling incognito or connected to Darin's rebellion? This has only gotten more and more puzzling!_

Lyn chose this moment to rejoin them in the throne room, "Grandfather's situation is now stable, and I will be able to entrust his care to the servants."

"Servants?" Eliwood asked, "You won't take care of him personally?"

"I won't be able to if I'm traveling with all of you," she replied.

"What?"

"They injured my grandfather to the point that he almost perished," Lyn said furiously, "I will pursue them and see to it that they will never be able to do so again."

"Where Lady Lyndis goes, I will follow," Kent said.

"That goes for me as well," Sain added.

"Don't leave me behind," Wil called out.

"Looks like we will need your aid more than ever, Cecilia," Hector said.

Cecilia shook her head, "I didn't do anything, it was all thanks to Drake."

"Speaking of Drake, where is he?" Lyn asked.

High above, standing on the battlements of Castle Caelin, a lonely man was playing a reed flute by himself. As his sorrowful gaze drifted across the landscape illuminated by the setting sun, Drake found himself recalling every man he had killed this day.

_Whether honorable, craven, just, or foul, blood is blood. And I have spilled enough of it to drown myself in it. Yet regardless where I go, I must continue to shed the lifeblood of others in order to repay the debts I owed in the past…_

_

* * *

_

_Shorter chapter, but this was a reunion chapter with more events that needed to be said rather than action. On a secondary note, some of you may or may not find the exchange between Drake and Raven somewhat odd, but that will be revealed at a later date. Thank you for reading and review if you have the time!_


	12. Pirate's Wager

_Author's Corner:_

_You know the drill, just read (review is optional, jk). Due to popular demand, I will be adding touches toward a Tactician/Lyn pairing. However, I'm quite a newbie at the romance genre, so don't sue me if I mess this up royally (Which I hope I won't)._

_**DotDotDotman** – I'm glad you like the candle mark idea and the series of exchanges. In regards to your question regarding when they'll learn about Drake's past, I'll give you a brief hint. Where did Drake come from and who else in FE7 comes from there as well?_

_**Dude **– Updating soon, but work gets in the way somewhat._

_**Dias of All Final **– I haven't seen you in a while. Thanks for your compliments on my tactical plans. And as per your (and other people's) requests, this will move in the Tactician/Lyn direction._

* * *

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 11**

**Pirate's Wager**

_April 13th, on the streets of Badon,_

_This has to be one of the few times that I have visited Badon without a ring of bodyguards armed to the teeth. Well, I guess I can count in a nervous Lyn with a sword at my back, but that's pretty much all the support I'll get in the event of a trouble. Badon's reputation for chaos and cutthroats were far more infamous than even Araphen, and probably was second to none throughout Elibe. As a port town plagued by pirates and rogues, there was virtually no security or pledge of safe conduct short of having an armed crowd around you. Well, I guess you can count in 'honor among thieves,' if that even exists._

"I take it that you've never been to Badon before," Drake commented.

Lyn shook her head, "I never thought I would actually come here of my own free will."

While Hector, Eliwood, and Cecilia had left to procure a passage to Valor, Drake and Lyn were sitting near the docks watching the tide roll in. Half a dozen large vessels were moored at the various docks, of which two were undergoing repairs. Countless fishing boats and small craft also lined the wharves, but obviously they were ill-equipped to ferry a small army overseas. Naturally, when there were idle ships, there also idle sailors, several of which could be eyeing Lyn openly.

One of them whistled, "Look at that one over there."

"She's a fine catch," another agreed, "Hey, girlie, how about you come have some fun with us?"

Lyn bristled at the raucous laughter accompanying that remark, and would've drawn her sword had not Drake put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she looked at him and sighed, "I know, I know, chopping people into fish bait over idle banter is hardly seemly on the streets."

Drake favored her with a grin, "You're learning quickly."

"I had a good mentor," Lyn replied with a smile of her own, "And my father taught me a swordswoman's mantra."

"Fierce as the scorching flame," Drake tried to recall when he had last read the hymn himself.

"Swift as the howling winds," she replied.

Drake continued, "Illusive as the myriad forests…"

"Stalwart as the imposing mountains," Lyn finished, "Did I forget anything?"

"Actually, I think you did," Drake said after a moment's reflection, "If the mantra ended there, the verses would be appropriate for a _male_ swordmaster."

Lyn thought back, and then shook her head, "I can't remember what the last one was."

Drake looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "That is because you don't compliment yourself very often, Lyn, and the fifth law does not do justice to your beauty," he whispered softly, "Sweeter than forbidden fruit."

Lyn blinked in astonishment, a rosy red spreading across her cheeks as she gazed towards the ground. She was still gathering her befuddled wits as Drake got up and left, never turning around to see the effects of his words. Staring after his figure, Lyn tried to mull through her confusion, _Drake is hardly the one I'd believe to be flirtatious a womanizer, the Drake I know always speaks the truth. But in that case…_

"Lyn?"

Lyn started at the sudden interruption to her musings. Turning around, she saw Florina with Serra and Matthew in tow. Trying to calm her rampant emotions, Lyn managed to ask, "What is it?"

"Lord Eliwood and the others have returned to the inn," Florina said, "They're all waiting for you and Drake. Speaking of which, have you seen Drake at all?"

Lyn almost blushed, but stammered, "N-no, I haven't."

Serra huffed angrily, "I know he is a great tactician and leader, but it is simply rude to allow noble ladies such as us wait for him!"

Matthew gagged at that comment, but regained his composure before Serra turned an icy glare on him, "Then I suggest we head back to the Leaping Leviathan. I wager that Drake will even beat us back there!"

True to Matthew's assertion, Drake was clearly visible at the Leaping Leviathan, deep in conversation with Cecilia, Hector and Eliwood. The four of them greeted Lyn, but Drake made no allusion to their previous conversation. Lyn, seeing that he avoided the topic, did not press him for an explanation, "So what happened?"

"No luck," Hector growled, "Every single one of these captains is too cowardly to sail for the Dread Isle. They believe that those bound for Valor will not return alive."

"Apparently that is true so far," Cecilia groaned, "Only two ships ventured remotely close to Valor, and no one has seen head or tails of their crews again."

"Aye buckos, ye won't get anywhere using those landlubbers."

Everyone turned to look at the new voice, only to discover that it belonged to a giant of a man wearing a bandanna and sporting a grey beard. The man took a long swig from his tankard before casting a weather eye over Eliwood's group, "No foolish fisherman will eva tempt his skin to sail the uncharted seas."

"And you're different?" Hector asked, annoyed by the man's tone.

"Of course he is," Drake spoke for the first time, "A pirate ship is far sturdier than a merchant craft."

Eliwood, Hector, Lyn, and Cecilia all looked at Drake in astonishment while the pirate smirked, "Name's Fargus, and I would bet ma life that you've dealt with us sea scum before."

"That's a bet you'd win," Drake replied, "You're willing to take us to Valor?"

"For the right price," was the reply, but Drake caught Fargus' eye at the word price.

"How much is that?" Hector asked.

Fargus snorted at that, "I'll take you for a hundred grand. Take it or leave it."

Eliwood slammed his hand on the table, "Done!"

"You're a terrible liar," Fargus laughed, "You don't have the gold."

"Give us a moment and we will," Eliwood said as he dragged Hector out of the inn.

"Yo Dart!" Fargus barked, "Keep those two naïve fools out of sight until after the _real _bargaining is done."

"Aye, aye captain!"

Lyn looked at Drake, "The real bargaining?"

"Whew, do ma eyes deceive me, or do we have a real goddess in the house?" Fargus said.

Lyn scowled, but calmed down after Drake waved his hand slightly.

"You never take a pirate's word at face value, Lyn," Drake replied, "When you're on their quarterdeck, you play by their rules."

Fargus guffawed, "Finally, a landlubber who knows the tricks of the trade."

"I'll inform Lord Eliwood and Lord Hector then," Cecilia said, getting up.

After Cecilia left, Lyn asked, "So what do you mean by price then?"

Fargus took another draught of beer, "Pirates aren't always out for booty or blood, missus. Sometimes, the lull of fame or fun is enough to stir our roots. What I propose is a Pirate's Wager." He gave a long look at Drake.

"Pirate's Wager?" Lyn asked.

Drake smirked, "The Badon Challenge of Champions?"

Fargus smiled broadly, "Ah, so ye know what I'm talking about. If you can defeat the five champions, we'll give you a lift to Valor."

Lyn looked towards Drake for an explanation, so he obliged, "The Challenge of Champions is a tourney held annually at Badon's arena. Every year, five of the most famous fighters in Badon are honor bound to hold a challenge to all comers. However, in order to challenge them, you need a full complement of five members. No man may fight two battles, and whichever side has the more victories is declared the victor of the contest."

"That shouldn't be too difficult," Lyn said, "We can just deploy Hector, Kent, Marcus, Sain, and…"

"Hold, missus," Fargus said, raising a hand, "Since this is a Pirate's Wager, I'll be choosing from yer participants."

"What?" Lyn asked in surprise.

"Heh, I trade five fights for a hundred grand," Fargus pointed out, "That's your advantage. Ma advantage is I choose your representatives. All fair and no complaints, eh?"

"It'll be alright, Lyn," Drake said, "We'll agree to the terms, provided that you don't intentionally send someone who is incapable of fighting such as a cleric."

Fargus laughed, "Heh, I won't do that, what's the fun of watching a slaughter? You have ma word as a pirate."

"In that case, might I join your party?"

Drake and Lyn looked up to see a young man wearing a monocle and carrying a book under his arm descending the stairs. His pale face offset his dark hair and obsidian robes.

"My name is Canas," the man said, "I am a scholar of magic also making my way to Valor to study the ruins on the island, but can't seem to find anyone to take me there."

Fargus grunted, "An extra mouth to feed for a week or two won't burden ma ship too much. I'll put you in first, against Ulcan the Red."

"You can spare me the explanations," Canas replied, "I overheard most of your exchange upstairs."

"I think I saw a pegasus outside," Fargus continued, "She'll fight against Magnus."

"Florina?" Lyn said, "You can't…"

Drake interrupted, "Do the usual forfeiture rules apply?"

"Yes," Fargus answered, "Next I need an archer…"

Rebecca and Wils look up from their lunch at the same time, "Did someone say an archer?"

"It appears that we need one of you for an arena contest," Drake said, "Anyone volunteer?"

Drake slapped himself when the two archers both exclaimed at the same time, "Me!"

Wil turned to Rebecca, "I'm sorry, miss, for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Wil, and I wish to accept Drake's condition to enter the arena."

Rebecca perked up at his name, but was adamant about her position, "Why shouldn't I go?"

"Well, you're a girl… And…" Wil got no further than that.

"So you look down on me since I'm a girl?" Rebecca said furiously, "I'll just have to prove it to you that I'm a far better archer!"

Wil sighed, "You misunderstood, and I meant that I didn't want to see you in the arena! It's your safety that I'm concerned about, not which one of us is the better shot!"

That stumped her. "You're… What?" Rebecca asked.

"Sir Kent would never let me hear the end of this if I let a girl take the field instead of myself," Wil explained, "So that'll be all, Drake, I'll take the challenge."

As the two archers sat down again, Rebecca muttered to herself, "He's just like him! But is he…?"

"Well, that's that," Fargus said gruffily, "Next is Sir Damian of…"

"He's mine," Hector said as he stormed in, "I'll be damned if I pass up an opportunity like this."

Fargus looked him over, "You sure, laddie? Don't cry if you lose!"

"I may be naïve, but my ax isn't!" Hector asserted.

"In that case, that'll be all," Fargus drained his tankard and got up to leave.

"Hold," Lyn stopped him, "You only named four participants. How are we supposed to fight five champions with four fighters?"

"Aye, sharp eyes, missus," Fargus said, "I don't need to name the fifth and last one, since he's already signed on."

"What?"

"Didn't ye know?" Fargus replied, "The one who accepts a Pirate's Wager must always enter, right landlubber?"

Everyone looked at Drake, who merely nodded, "Aye."

* * *

"You can't be serious about entering the arena!" Lyn exclaimed, "You could be killed!"

Drake merely gave her a glance before walking on, "I've never sent a man where I did not dare to go myself. The challengers are allowed into the arena in two more candle marks, which leaves us sufficient time to prepare."

"Ah, chill out," Hector said, "I'm sure Drake will have an ace up his sleeve. By the way, do we know anything about our opponents other than their names?"

"I've sent Canas to the arena to make a few discreet inquiries," Cecilia said, "He should be returning in a few minutes."

Upon learning of the Pirate's Wager, the army had been separated into two distinct groups. The former, composed of the tourney entrants, the tacticians, and the lords were based in the Leaping Leviathan, discussing Fargus' challenge. The latter group was scattered around the inn, keeping their eyes peeled for any potential troublemakers or problems. Canas took this moment to enter the inn after nodding to Kent and Sain, who were outwardly tethering their horses, but keeping their eyes on those entering the tavern.

"What news of the champions?" Eliwood asked.

"Ulcan the Red is a mage specializing in fire magic," Canas read off a parchment, "He appears to be the head of a smuggling ring that traffics goods between Badon and Etruria."

Drake winced, and to everyone's surprise, said, "Easy win. Don't eat him alive too quickly, Canas."

Canas laughed, "I'll try not to. Magnus is a warrior hailing from the Western Isles. He has petitioned to be equipped with a light throwing ax along with bow and arrows."

Florina paled while Lyn frowned, "A male warrior with arrows… Florina should definitely not go against this one."

"I-I s-should at l-least try…" Florina stammered on the verge of tears.

"No one doubts your courage or skill," Cecilia said soothingly, "But the disadvantages are simply too stacked against you. There will be other opportunities to prove yourself."

"Next one is tough," Canas said, "Kilgar, leader of an assassin group that operates around Badon, and a deadly sniper at that. Last week he picked off a bounty that was a fair half mile away from him with one shot."

"Hm…" Wil said, "This should be fun… Any ideas Drake?"

"You'd be surprised," Drake said, "I may have a trick or two handy for such a purpose."

"I'll take your word for it then," Wil said with a smile, "Just bring him on, I'll have him covered."

"Lord Hector's opponent is Sir Damian of Bern," Canas rattled on, "Old knight in his fifties, but still fresh and full of bite. It doesn't appear that he is much of a fighter, but he is always guaranteed a spot since he annually makes a large 'donation' to the cause. For past dozen years running, every single one of his opponents has forfeited the match. Oddly enough, they've all become significantly wealthier in a brief amount of time afterwards."

Hector and Drake exchanged a glance, "Bribes," Drake said with finality, "I would be amazed if he even has a functional lance nowadays."

"Hey, Cecilia," Hector asked, "Are we short on campaign funds?"

"Not really," Cecilia asked, "Why?"

"Then you wouldn't mind if I turn down his offer and make him bite the dust, would you?"

Eliwood smiled, "I'm sure she wouldn't mind, just don't hurt him."

"Are you joking?"

"Well, I meant don't hurt him more than necessary."

"You're no fun at all, you know that, Eliwood?"

Canas cleared his throat, "The last opponent is actually someone we've already met. He's one of Fargus' crew and goes by the name of Dart. Last month, he was single-handedly responsible for the taking of two rival pirate ships by decapitating the rival captains. That's quite a resume for a normal pirate."

Lyn bit her lip and turned on Drake, "There must be another way," she pleaded with him, "You don't have to risk yourself like this."

"She's not the only one with misgivings about this," Eliwood said, "We still need your advice in combat, Drake, and if you fall here, the journey will become many times more difficult. No insult meant towards Cecilia, of course."

"And no offense taken," Cecilia replied, "I still have much to learn from Drake regarding warfare as well."

Drake raised up a hand to quell the rising panic around him, "Hold, remember that Fargus is quite possibly the only one willing to give us passage to Valor. As part of our wager, I must take the field against Dart. This is the quickest and most efficient path to the Dread Isle."

"But…" Lyn said.

"If we play our cards correctly, Drake wouldn't have to fight at all," Canas pointed out, "If we garner three wins before the last fight, then we would have achieved the victory by default anyways."

"It's almost time," Matthew said, entering the tavern, "We best head for the arena now to secure seating."

As everyone filed out of the Leaping Leviathan, Lyn caught Drake's cloak and tugged him back. Turning slightly, Drake found Lyn staring at the ground, her hand tightly gripping his cloak flap.

"I still don't want you to enter," Lyn said softly.

"But what choice do we have?" He countered.

"But if you get hurt? Or worse, ki…" Lyn shut her eyes tightly, "What would we do without you?" _What would I do?_

Her eyes popped open in surprise when she felt Drake's hand engulf hers. Tearing her gaze from the floor, she saw Drake gently pry her fingers from his cloak before he smiled briefly.

"Just wait patiently, I'll be right back."

As they walked towards the arena, dark thoughts continued to assail Drake's mind. _Frankly speaking, I'd be quite content to have Dart split me in two with his ax and relieve me of this tortuous existence. Unfortunately, with the flock under my care, I cannot just abandon them to the wolves and quietly pass on._

* * *

Whatever instructions Drake had given to his fellow challengers went out the window as they entered the arena. Nothing he said could've prepared them for the thousands of screaming spectators eager to watch combatants spill each other's life blood on the ground below. The thunderous acclaim could not even be matched by a battlefield's clamor. In battle, there was preciously few battle cries or shouts between armies, who prudently save their strength for the struggle ahead. The arena is an entirely different story altogether, filled with thousands of bloodthirsty watchers who have nothing better to do than scream themselves hoarse when the victor is decided and the vanquished lies in a pool of blood.

"Cowards," Marcus muttered in the stands next to Eliwood, "On a normal day in the streets, their hide their bloodlust beneath the cloaks of peace. In an arena, the daggers come out, and their nature is revealed."

"We apparently aren't the first challengers," Eliwood observed, pointing at the dozen or so bloody mounds on the sands below.

"A good thing," Cecilia noted, "The champions will be tired from previous exertions, while ours are fresh into battle."

"Fie, for shame, lady," Oswin said, "Knights should not fight against one another when one side's strength is spent. That would be dishonorable and against the codes of chivalry."

"You mean well, Sir Oswin," Rebecca interrupted, "But this is not a knightly joust here. We are fighting against brigands and evil men, who do not deserve the kind of courtesy you show."

"As knights," Lowen answered, "We are honor bound to follow our code, regardless of how callous or ruthless our opponents are. I beg your leave, milady."

Dorcas remained silent, though Bartre muttered the word, "Idiots," into his tankard of ale. Erk, quite bored and unable to understand why the arena was so appealing with sitting with a pair of earmuffs, deeply engrossed in a book.

Sain was busy scouring the crowds for those of the gentler sex, "By my honor, Kent, look at that fair beauty over there…" An exasperated Kent silenced him with a hearty smack to the back of the head.

Down below, standing just outside the gate leading into the arena battlegrounds, the challengers rendezvoused with Lyn, Serra, and Priscilla. Matthew and Guy were their escorts, for according to Serra, "Three beauteous ladies such as us simply cannot be allowed to meander in such a filthy place without escorts." Matthew would've liked to change the number 'three' to simply 'two,' but wisely chose to avoid Serra's wrath at least for one day.

"Serra and Priscilla are here in case any of you are dragged out of the gate in a less than healthy state," Lyn explained.

"Good idea," Drake said, "I believe we shall need that more than you think."

Fargus appeared and clapped Drake on the shoulder, "Good ta see ye, landlubber, I was beginning to doubt ye would show up."

"And be the laughingstock of all Badon?" Drake winced, "So, how badly are the odds stacked against us?"

"The wagers are currently a comfortable ten to one against ye," Fargus informed him.

"Taking advantage of us, eh?" Drake said, "We not only provide you with an awesome spectacle, but you also walk away with a golden prize!"

"Guilty as charged," Fargus boomed, "Good luck and don't let Dart tear an arm off ye. Either way, I can't lose, since Dart brings in twenty grand if he remains undefeated 'till sunset."

* * *

By unspoken law, combat on the arena grounds were strictly man to man. This prevented any 'unbiased' aid from other sources such as guards or friends. The battleground was circular is shape, with four gates spread evenly apart from one another. Tradition dictated that the challengers always entered from the south, whilst the reigning champions, if you could call them that, were stationed at the northern entrance. This was done to prevent one of them to enter the combat with the sun in their eyes. There was no rule for changing your position during combat, however.

Canas, as the first challenger, took the field first. A solid fifty yards ahead of him stood Ulcan the Red, who was tugging on his crimson beard as he waved to his cheering supporters in the stands. After seeing him toast four previous challengers to crisp, Ulcan was heavily favored by the crowd, seeing that his opponent was nothing more than a frail scholar concealed in a dark cloak.

Ulcan leered at his adversary, "Such a flimsy piece of meat… You're hardly worth my effort."

Canas replied by adjusting his monocle, "Perhaps, but many have underestimated me."

"Do you prefer medium rare or well done?"

"I think I prefer rare, assuming you are capable of changing my order, master chef."

Ulcan sneered and quickly flipped open his Fire tome with his left hand, tracing a spell with his fingers and chanting swiftly. Gesturing at Canas, Ulcan threw a small ball of flame towards his motionless opponent. Canas, seeming unaware of the impending danger, was busy adjusting his monocle again when he stooped his head slightly and opened his tome and squinting at it. Timed perfectly, the haphazardly thrown Fire spell sailed over his slightly bent head and splashed against the sand behind him.

"Did you do something? Or did the fight begin already?" Canas asked.

Purple with rage, Ulcan began chanting rapidly, flinging spell after spell at Canas, who merely drifted from side to side with the patience and skill of a master spell caster. A quarter of a candle mark later, Canas was still reading his book when Ulcan was sweating profusely and panting like a dog. Exhausted by the effort, Ulcan glared at his opponent.

"Are you done yet?" Canas asked politely.

"Never!" Ulcan threw down his Fire tome and reached into his robes to pull out an Elfire tome, "Dodge this!" He cackled as he began chanting again.

Canas' eyes narrowed, and for the first time in this fight, he too began chanting a spell. Ulcan, however, finished before Canas could, and directed a large Elfire bolt towards his antagonist.

"Die! What the hell?" His victorious crowing was curtailed as he saw Canas motioning with his hand and a dark ball appearing overhead.

A sphere of nether energy materialized over Canas' head, before splitting into multiple strands and slithering down his body. The dark spell, acting as an absorbing shield, blocked the harmful Elfire spell from even scorching a thread on Canas' robe, continued to travel until it entered the ground. Ulcan, gaping at the almost careless dismissal of his Elfire tome, did not realize a similar circular pattern emerging beneath his feet until it was too late.

Screaming with horror, Ulcan found himself trapped with the matrix-like lattice of Canas' spell. Unable to free himself from the confining barrier in time, the Flux spell gathered like a storm cloud and smote him directly in the face. Ulcan fell without even a whisper of pain, only a look of agony permanently fixated on his face.

Canas polished his monocle with his sleeve, "I always hated cheaters."

The crowd, initially shocked into silence, exploded into applause.

* * *

Pleading impossible odds, Drake withdrew Florina from the combat against Magnar. Both combatants had shattered their weapons in the first moments of battle, but Florina had returned shaking like a leaf with a splintered slim lance in her trembling grasp. Seeing that she was no longer able to continue the fight, Lyn threw in the towel.

Magnar, unexpectedly, was generous after the withdrawal. Though claiming the victory, he loudly declared that the match would've been a heated battle, not even one he'd be confident of victory. With that, he silenced the victorious cheers of his supporters and quitted the battleground via the northern exit.

The free-for-all shootout between Wil and Kilgar lasted longer than both of the previous duels combined. Acting on Drake's advice, Wil declined a direct shootout and instead utilized his speed to rain arrows upon his foe. As Drake correctly guessed, Kilgar was no pushover, but was limited in his mobility. Drake reasoned that as a sniper, Kilgar would have to wait patiently in one location for the perfect shot on his target. Given that, Wil's best chance would be to play the mobile archer, drifting from one place to another and peppering Kilgar with shots occasionally.

Sure enough, Kilgar had adopted a stationary stance in the beginning, hoping to pin down and silence Wil in a single, well-aimed bolt. However, Wil's constant movement and harassing arrows forced Kilgar to adopt a similar mobile policy, or risk getting pin cushioned by half a dozen arrows.

"Stand still, boy!" Kilgar growled out, "Stop dancing around like a pesky mosquito!"

Often times, either Wil or Kilgar ran out of arrows in their quivers, thus resorted to pulling out spent bolts from the soft sand. It was during of those moments when Wil was stooping for an arrow when a lucky shot hit him in the thigh. Kilgar let out a cry of victory, but dismay crossed his features when he discovered he was out of arrows as well. Cashing in on the opportunity presented to him, Wil yanked out a nearby arrow from the sand and fired it back with all his remaining strength.

A distracted Kilgar was scanning for arrows when he suddenly heard the whistling sound of an incoming projectile. Jerking to one side, he dodged the return shot, but unfortunately for Kilgar, Wil's counterattack shattered his precious weapon, effectively disarming him.

Since neither side could continue the struggle, the match was declared a draw, with each fighter retreating to their respective entrances.

As Wil limped back to the southern entrance with the help of Matthew and Guy, he turned an apologetic look at Drake and Lyn, "Sorry, Drake, Lady Lyndis. I tried my best but still failed miserably."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lyn scolded, "You did fine, since a draw counts half a win for either side."

"I wasn't referring to that," Wil said tiredly, "I meant that Drake _must _take the field now…"

A painful realization flashed through Lyn's mind, _By Father Sky, he's right! Both sides have one and a half wins, so even if Hector pulls through the next round, we only have two and a half wins out of five! We don't have the majority to declare an automatic victory!_

Noticing Lyn's stricken look, Drake put a hand on her shoulder, "It doesn't matter, Wil tried his hardest."

Lyn turned a scared look at Drake, "But you're not a fighter! Dart will massacre you in battle!"

"And I can't forfeit either," Drake said calmly, "If we end in a draw, we lose our path to Valor, and that above all must be avoided at any cost. Lord Hector, it's your show."

* * *

Hector stood in the middle the battleground, impatiently waiting for his late opponent. Word had spread like wildfire that the challenger had refused the proffered bribe and sought glory against Sir Damian. Ugly rumors had sprouted out that Sir Damian's tardiness was out of cowardice, and that he had fled rather than giving battle. All these thoughts were banished as the trumpets sounded when a fully armored mounted knight sprang from the northern entrance. Checking his steed ten yards before Hector, the knight raised his visor and squinted at Hector.

"You're not fifty-odd," Hector said, "So who the hell are you?"

"And you're not Eliwood of Pherae," the mysterious knight said, "So where the hell is he?"

"I am Hector of Ostia. If you answer my question, I'll consider yours," Hector growled.

"Impudent child," the knight responded, "I am Sir Damian of Bern. The original champion was my grandsire, but since he has pleaded illness, I shall fill in for him."

"So why do you ask for Eliwood?"

"Eliwood of Pherae does not yet fear the Black Fang," Damian replied, "And I shall teach him that fear by slaughtering you."

"Oh, really now?" Hector smiled wolfishly, "Then I shall have to disappoint you by dragging your dead carcass from that pathetic beast you call a horse."

"Then prepare to die, Hector of Ostia!" Damian wheeled his steed back fifty yards and prepared to charge the blue-haired lord. Striking spurs to his horse, Damian charged at Hector with his mighty sword raised for the kill.

Hector was not surprised at the appearance of a proxy. Upon refusing the proffered bribe presented by the elder Damian, Hector, Cecilia and Drake had sat down to discuss any possible response from the opposing side. The three of them had agreed that there was little chance that Sir Damian, a knight well into his fifties and had not tasted battle in a dozen years, would actually arm himself and do battle for his honor. Cecilia had suggested, and both Hector and Drake agreed, that Sir Damian would be sending someone to fight in his place, though none of them had expected the grandson.

They had, however, counted on another mounted cavalier, much younger and more skilled, astride a stallion of great spirit and strength. Hector had fought many a cavalier during the march from Santaruz to Badon, and he well remembered Drake's tactic in dealing with mounted horsemen. Hector simply waited, body tense in anticipation, until Damian was almost on him before springing to the left side of the horse.

Traditionally, mounted knights always held the sword in the right arm and the shield on the left. Naturally, this made them harder to injure on the left, but deadlier on the right. While Hector was standing to the left of the charging horse, he presented a more difficult target for Damian to strike, while he was free to attack the unprotected horse. Sweeping a mighty roundhouse blow with his ax, Hector hamstrung the steed and set both horse and rider crashing into the sand.

Damian struggled to rise and give battle, but was pinned down by his horse. When the destrier collapsed in agony and dislodged the rider, the beast did not stay still and managed to crush its rider's legs beneath him. Handicapped by his lack of movement, Damian could do little as Hector approached him with his bloody ax.

"Normally," Hector growled, "I would offer knights a chance to yield. However, this option is withheld against false knights who seek to harm my friends."

Downwards the ax smote, and cleanly separated Damian's head from the rest of his body.

* * *

"Give me that lance, will you?"

Drake was so preoccupied with picking a suitable lance that he failed to notice Lyn and Fargus walk into the armory.

"No spearman ever prevailed more than a quarter of a candle mark against Dart," Fargus commented, "Are you decided on the lance?"

"Quite so," Drake said, "I just need to warm up a little."

Shedding his cumbersome cloak, Drake treaded slowly into an open area specifically designated for fighters to practice. He halted before a large wooden post designed for lance practice and began his short exercise.

Lyn could honestly say afterwards that she had never seen such lance work before in her life. Slash, parry, counterthrust, stab, swing, and lunge were done in one fluid motion, one after another until the entire exercise seemed to be a deadly dance to the beat of soundless music. Drake riposted the lance from one hand to another, slid the lance across his shoulders before ending by grabbing his lance with both hands and delivering a piercing thrust over the shoulders into the wooden post that stood before him.

"Missus," Lyn jumped at Fargus' booming voice. As she turned to look at Fargus, she was shocked to see Fargus' face exchange its normal pink complexion to one of startling paleness.

"Yes?" Lyn asked.

"Please go inform Dart that his captain _orders_ him to resign from this tournament for the good of his health."

However confused Lyn was by this comment, she was elated to learn that Drake did not need to participate in the tourney. She quickly left to inform Dart of the change in plans.

After Lyn left, Fargus regarded Drake for a moment, "Where did you learn that routine from?"

Drake's smile turned sardonic, "Curse of Caldeonia."

Behind him, the wooden post shattered asunder.

* * *

Dart was only slightly disappointed at Fargus' decision, but was appeased with the prospect of gold and adventure. Fargus had placed a hefty ten thousand bet on Drake's victory, and walked off with his hundred grand with Dart's forfeit. Publicly, Fargus told his crew that the money was more important than Dart's pride, though he never mentioned what he had identified in Drake's lancework.

With plenty of helping hands, Fargus had his new guests' baggage and animals stowed away on his ship in a record time. At high tide, the _Davros_ was in full cruise, leaving the friendly waters of Badon and headed towards the Dread Isle. As Fargus had boasted, Drake had scarcely seen a faster ship cruise over the dangerous seas. Most of the party was scattered all over the ship, whether tending to the horses, trying to stop being seasick, beating the daylights out of each other in poker (which he strongly suspected Serra was doing), or simple chatting. From his vantage point on the crow's nest, Drake could see Eliwood speaking with Fargus at the wheel, along with Hector and Lyn conversing about the past at the bow of the ship.

They had made good time over the sea, delayed only by the appearance of another pirate ship. Though Fargus claimed that these were _his _waters, the other ship continued to approach, fully prepared to give battle. Cecilia had taken charge immediately, ordering Wil and Rebecca to the crow's nest to shoot at the other ship's riggings. That significantly slowed the vessel, and Erk sent the enemy packing by setting their sails merrily on fire. Last time the _Davros_ saw them, the pirate ship was still busy trying to put out the flames.

"Ahoy, Drake," Matthew said, joining him on the crow's nest, "They want you astern, I'll take over here."

"Understood," Drake replied as he climbed down towards deck. He was halfway down the riggings when someone shouted from the portside of the _Davros_, "Dingy ahoy!"

Dart hurtled a grappling hook and, with the aid of two fellow shipmates, pulled the dingy alongside the _Davros_. Looking over the side, he blinked twice before turning around and giving Fargus a curious look.

"Captain, you are simply _not _going to believe what we found."

* * *

_Wow, a cliffhanger… But we all know who the dingy contains, right? The last part may seem a little rushed, but right now at around 13 pages, I have to save the rest for the next chapter._

_Ugh, this chapter turned into a monster. I simply couldn't resist the urge to write an extended arena tournament instead of a Badon brawl with brigands, but it turned out much longer than I expected. (I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.) Thank you for reading and review if you have the time!_


	13. Valor

_Author's Corner:_

_Alrightie then, moving on with the main line! I'm somewhat angry at myself for devoting almost an entire chapter to a 'sidequest,' but it turned out nicely, so I forgive myself. (I will be avoiding the Kishuna sidequests in the future, as they do not serve much of a role in advancing the plot. It helps Nergal's story, but the 'main' character of this fiction is Drake, not Nergal.) I will, however, deal with the sidequest after Uhai briefly, since we are introduced to a new character (or whatever you prefer to call Renault as)._

_As a further note, I have been inserting various 'extra characters' in multiple chapters, as some of you may or may not have noticed in earlier chapters. I find it really repetitive and bland to say 'so-and-so's captain/commander/hired dork' over and over again. To counter that, I have introduced several additional names simply to get them, unfortunately, killed in battle. In addition, I made a big mistake by neglecting to clarify how this Lyn/Tactician pairing is going to work. This will primarily be a one-sided thing, since Drake is more or less guilt-ridden to a point that he'd never consider a possible relationship._

_The crew has hit the shores of Valor, much chaos ensues, people die… You get the picture, read and review!_

_**DotDotDotMan **– Why thank you for the review! reads review again Dear Lord! smacks self on head You're not supposed to give it away! AHHHHHH! Last time I EVER give out hints again! And no, I can tinker with some elements of FE7, but certain immoveable elements must be retained…_

_**Dude **– I'm still griping about whether I can pull this pairing off. I have a rough game plan in mind that may or may not cause you all to run screaming for the hills. Hang in there and this will turn out nicely. Drag me outside and shoot me if I mess it up, OK? (No, I'm serious.)_

_**Rookie **– In response to your two questions, the Florina scene was purely for humor's sake, and I wanted to tweak that scene in the first place anyways. In regards to the Drake-Raven exchange, I mentioned at the footnote of Chapter 10 that the exchange was set up for a later plot twist. Now be good so I don't have to hand out more spoilers!_

_**Shadow Rave** – Thanks for your review!_

_**Dias of All Final **– I was toying with the idea of actually sending Drake into the fight, but decided to save that pleasure for a later date considering the length of the previous chapter. And yes, I re-affirm that this is my first time writing romance, so expect some, uh, difficulties on my part. And yes, everything builds and builds until Drake's entire past comes crashing down, woe betide those that survived and saw through the lies._

_**Phantom Kensai **– I understand your concerns regarding the pairing issue, but bear with me for the moment. I did neglect to clarify the relationship, but it'll all come out in the end. In the onset, I intentionally avoided a Lyn/Tactician pairing given that the scenario was a common subject for various writers. Also, Fargus had no idea that Canas was a shaman (Hey, you couldn't tell at first glance that a flimsy little guy like Canas could own so badly, right?) And by the way, that non-mounted lance user was supposed to be a hint._

_Wait a minute, I just promised not to give out hints! fwaps self in forehead_

_**Mad-man **– Thank you for the review! There was no particular reasoning attached to the name Drake, except it was morphed out of the name of one of my online aliases. Drake is just a stand-in name until I reveal his true identity anyways._

* * *

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 12**

**Valor**

"Well, out with it," Fargus barked, "What've ye found?"

Dart opened his mouth to reply, and then clapped it shut and merely pointed to the dingy.

Looking over the side, Fargus did a double take, "The hell? A teal-haired gal all alone in an abandoned lifeboat? What are ye nitwits doing? Get her onboard!"

Hesitating, Dart looked at Lyn, "Hey, you! Can you help me with this? I don't know how to, err, grab her."

"Willingly," Lyn said, scrambling over to help.

With the aid of several pirates, they managed to raise the dingy alongside the deck, where Lyn was able to retrieve the unconscious girl. Brushing some of the wet hair that covered the motionless girl's face, Lyn gasped at the sight.

"This… This is Ninian!"

Eliwood and Drake both looked up at that. Abandoning the conversation at hand, Eliwood hurried over to where Lyn laid the recovering Ninian on deck. Drake, however, was frowning, his brow furrowed as he thought. _What in the name of the gods is she doing here?_

"Who's Ninian?" Hector and Cecilia asked.

"Lyn and I met her a year ago when the Black Fang were in pursuit of her along with her brother, Nils," Drake explained, "If I recall correctly, he delayed a practice bout with you, Lord Hector, in order to rescue the girl from their clutches."

"Ah, I remember that," Hector said, nodding, "I was wondering what the devil he was up to, since Eliwood is never late to any of our practices."

"Did you find out why the Black Fang was after them?" Cecilia added.

Drake shook his head, "That we didn't, we went separate ways shortly after Lyn retook Caelin from Lundgren."

"Maybe this will shed some more light on the affair," Cecilia said.

Lyn left Ninian to Eliwood's care as she returned, "Somehow, Ninian appears to have lost her memory during her journey in the sea. Perhaps she'll regain a part of her memories after resting below decks."

Fargus grunted, "At any rate, the _Davros_ is almost reached the shores of Valor. Ye best be ready to disembark soon. We'll be back in a week's time for the lot of ye, or whatever remains, that is."

"I wonder what kind of reception we'll be receiving?" Cecilia wondered aloud after Fargus left.

"Preferably one of silence," Drake said, "Since we'd like to explore Valor as much as we can as quietly as we can. Then again, given our past record…"

"That'll be vanishingly unlikely," Cecilia finished.

"I wonder if Leila made it to Valor as well?" Hector asked.

Matthew was passing by and snorted, "She's the best spy in the business, of course she'll be here. She'll probably be waiting by the shore with a bouquet of flowers for me."

"Somebody say flowers?" Serra asked, poking her head out of her cabin, "I'd like a bouquet of roses, lilacs, and…"

Hector fixed Matthew with a glare, "You started it, you deal with it."

The cry of absolute horror was lost upon them as the _Davros_ ground to a halt beside Valor's shore.

* * *

"Too quiet," Lyn muttered as she splashed ashore, "There's something eerily silent about this area."

Lyn, Drake, Matthew, Hector, Canas, Ninian, and Eliwood were the first party that hit the shores of Valor. Mounted atop Huey, Florina was atop the _Davros_, eyes alert for trouble, but was unable to see clearly through the thick fog that dominated the shoreline. The next wave would consist of Erk, Serra, Rebecca, Wil, Bartre, Lucius, and Dorcas. The knights, being the most heavily armored and encumbered with their horses, were disembarked last with Cecilia, Guy and Raven, who stayed behind in case an emergency occurred from the sea.

"And the damning fog limits our vision," Matthew said, "By the gods, even I can barely see a few dozen yards ahead of me."

"Count on that we can see even less," Hector growled, "Keep those eyes peeled, Matthew. If something jumps out and ambushes us, I'll have your head after beheading the ambusher."

"Yes, milord," Matthew replied, "I'll keep a sharp eye out for… Leila?"

The woman's light purple hair was unmistakable as she leaned casually against a tree, panting for breath. Just as Matthew reached her, Leila pitched forward, unable to remain standing. With a cry of dismay, Matthew bound over and tightly grasped the wounded woman in his arms.

"Leila! What the heck happened to you?"

"C-caught…" she gasped out brokenly, "Unmasked… By E-Ephidel…"

"Did that bastard do this to you?"

Leila barely shook her head, "N-nay, it… It… was… Angel… of…"

"Hush, don't speak," Matthew said, panicking as his hands were slowly being covered in red, "A healer is coming, just hang in there! You'll be alright!"

Leila smiled slightly, a thin line dripping from the corner of her mouth, "I, I just wanted… Wanted you to h-hold me one last time…"

"Oh, gods," Matthew cried, "No, don't leave me! Please!"

"You said…" her eyes were glazing over, "You said you'd take… Take me home after this, right Matthew?"

"Yeah," he sniffed, completely ignoring the others that just caught up with him, "I, I did."

"I can… almost see… the village you spoke… so fondly of…" Leila shuddered, and then went limp.

Ninian and Lyn were wiping the tears from their eyes watching the thief that was crying his eyes out over the woman he loved. Canas and Drake averted their eyes while Eliwood could just stand there, his fists turning white as he clenched them. Hector was wordless, but strode over to put a hand on Matthew's shoulder in comfort.

"I can't say much to help," Hector said, "She died in the line of duty; honor her memory as a valiant servant of Ostia. Now come, Matthew. Women weep for their loss, but men avenge them!"(1)

Matthew's sobs grew fainter as he managed to rein his emotions, "You're right milord. Leila wouldn't want me to waste my life crying here. I must now do double the part, both my mission and hers. Please give me a moment, so I can at least bury her."

As Matthew rose heavily with Leila's body, Drake stopped him, "Take her body back to the _Davros_, the pirates can keep the body in a cool chamber for you to bring back to Ostia."

"But why?" Matthew choked out, "I don't even know where she lived…"

"Then have someone bring her back to your village," Drake said gently, "And bury her there, where she would have wanted."

Matthew smiled a bit through his tears, "Thanks, Drake, I owe you one just for this."

"Go now," Drake said, "Then return, and finish what she started."

* * *

The downcast mood was prevalent over camp as the remainder of the war party came ashore. As the lords and Fargus said their farewells for a week, Fargus promised that he would find trustworthy hands to see that Matthew's wish was carried out. It was with heavy hearts that everyone watched the _Davros_ slide away from shore into the deepening mists that surrounded the seas.

Ninian suddenly perked up, "Someone approaches from the south," she warned.

In a flash, the mercenary party assembled themselves for battle. Grim determination coursed through their veins as many a heart vowed that the Black Fang shall pay for such a heartless deed.

"Hooves," Matthew called out, "And made by only one horse."

"Light, springy," Drake muttered, "No knight is this, a Sacaen then?"

Sure enough, a mounted nomad warrior emerged from the mists, his powerful black stallion tossing in the ocean wind. The man leveled a hard gaze at the group assembled before him, before narrowing his eyes at the lords.

"I am Uhai, Soaring Hawk of the Black Fang," he declared, gesturing at Ninian, "I only desire to bring that girl back to my master. Yield her to us, and I will allow the rest of you to depart Valor with your lives."

"And if we refuse?" Eliwood replied. Drake gestured behind him towards Florina, who promptly took off into the mists on some unknown errand.

"Then you will all die, to the last man," Uhai said, "You know nothing of the awesome power that lies at Nergal's fingertips. All your efforts will avail you not against his judgment and doom. Do not believe that your insignificant defiance will afford you anything. Yield the girl and be happy with the lives you saved."

"Your terms are utterly unacceptable," Eliwood said, "We have come in quest of my father and to ensure Marquis Darin answers for his crimes against Lycia. Nergal or no, I shall not be diverted from my purpose!"

"Foolishness," Uhai sighed, "Very well, since you are so determined to walk into your doom, then prepare to suffer death at my hands. I hail from Sacae, and I see that there are my people in your group as well. The proud nomads of Sacae must not die without weapons in their hands, fighting to the last drop of their blood. Let this be my gift to you." He wheeled his steed and disappeared into the fog, accompanied by the neighing and stampeding of multiple horses.

"Florina, do you have a headcount?" Drake asked.

"Yes," Florina said as she landed meekly beside the lords, "They have roughly two dozen nomads counting their leader. I couldn't tell where they went though."

"I have dealt with Sacaens with swords on foot," Lyn said, "But I hardly image fighting a mounted archer with a sword is a feasible plan."

"They know the terrain too well," Eliwood said grimly, "Coupled with our handicaps in the fog, we could be running blindly into their arrows."

Drake turned to Cecilia, "What do you think?"

"Once we can catch them, they're toast," Cecilia said after a moment's though, "A mounted nomad's advantage is his mobility and range, but their disadvantage is their lack of melee fighters. If we can close in quickly…"

"What Lady Cecilia said is right!" Sain interrupted, "Please, leave this task to us! One armored cavalier is worth ten of these flimsy mounted archers!"

"That I would agree," Marcus said, "Once we run them down, they'll be easy prey for our lances."

"And that's precisely what they want us to do," Drake replied calmly.

"What?" Everyone within earshot instantly crowded around him, "But why?"

"So what are we supposed to do?" Hector roared.

"Simple," Drake said, "We do exactly what they want us to do."

"Sounds good," Dart said, just joining the conversation, "So what's the deal, me fellow landlubbers?"

The remainder of the group looked from one to another, not sure which was more insane.

"Now listen closely," Drake said, gathering everyone into a small huddle, "Cavaliers, pay close attention…"

* * *

Uhai had been wary of this group's combat capabilities considering the landslide victory Hector had achieved over Damian in Badon. In truth, Damian was not a high-ranking member within the Black Fang, but his sword arm was certainly respectable. If the whisperers could be trusted, Hector of Ostia had beheaded Damian in battle within a scant quarter of a candle mark, scarcely breaking sweat. Well, that said a lot for their skill in arms, but how capable were they in tactics?

"We shall soon find out," Uhai said softly.

"Hm? Uhai, did you say something?" Savin, his second-in-command, asked him.

"Nah," Uhai responded, "You know the play, don't you?"

"Same as usual," Savin replied, "One leads, one kills. You had the dirty work last time, I get to drink their blood today."

Uhai shook his head, "Savin, your bloodlust will be the death of you. Try to rein it in more, will you?"

"I'll try," Savin said with a grunt, "I know, I know. It was because of my thirst for blood that exiled us from our tribe years ago. Where I earned the name Bloody Vulture…"

"Feast well," Uhai said, holding out a hand.

"Soar high," Savin clasped it and galloped off.

The two had fought well in earlier skirmishes and battles alongside one another. It was a well-known fact throughout the Black Fang that the Soaring Hawk prefers to lead his foes on a wild-goose chase while the Bloody Vulture will swoop down from behind and make mincemeat of those who are unprepared. After proving themselves upon various battlefields, Sonia had 'recommended' them to Nergal as potential defenders of Valor. However, as they continued to remove intruder after intruder, Uhai became dispirited with the blatant slaughter while Savin seemed to revel in the gore. This began the deepening rift that both sought desperately to repair in order to regain their former balance and comradeship.

The two of them had long practiced a particular pattern of attack that never failed them upon the dense forestry of Valor. One of them, leading roughly half a dozen riders, would make contact with the enemy and draw away as many mounted pursuers as possible, leaving the small folk to remain vulnerable. The other, directing the majority of their forces, would fall upon the hapless remainder; slaughter them quickly before jointly taking down the cavalry. Trapped in the marshes and rising tide, infantry had limited or nearly no movement whatsoever and the killing rain of arrows would quickly extinguish their lives.

Uhai was the one responsible for baiting their enemies this time, hence why he made contact with the enemy earlier. He had been careful to count the presence of the lords' cavalry force and was slightly dismayed at the four heavily armored cavaliers itching for battle. Regardless, their tactics had never failed before, and today would not be an exception.

Bursting from the trees with his light force of half a dozen nomads, Uhai and his warriors fired a quick burst of arrows into the war host struggling to escape the confines of the tides. Knowing their time was limited, Uhai signaled the retreat when he saw the cavaliers mounting their horses and preparing to give chase.

"So predictable as always," Uhai muttered, "Draw them away from shore as usual."

Striking spurs to their steeds, the nomads peeled away from the shore with the cavaliers hot in pursuit. The Sacaen steeds, unencumbered by heavy plate mail, naturally moved swifter and more agilely than the ponderous Lycian destriers. Though the knights would crush his force if they came to melee range, Uhai was confident they could easily outrun the enemy heavy horse.

As Uhai and his men entered the trees, the hooves of the pursuers slackened to a halt. A moment's hesitation seemed to fall upon them as they waited underneath the dense forestry; they seemed to be waiting for something that Uhai could not identify through the trees. As further encouragement, Uhai launched an arrow at the lead warrior, who managed to deflect his bolt with his shield. In anger, the cavaliers gave pursuit again, trying their utmost to catch the illusive nomads. Chuckling to himself, Uhai led them on their way once more. After a few twists and turns around intentionally planted trees, Uhai had left the enemy far behind him, though the jingling of chain mail betrayed their continued, if futile, pursuit.

Meanwhile, Savin watched with rising anticipation the enemy cavalry halted briefly in the forests before giving chase. Down by the shore, the straggling foot soldiers had managed to clear the strangling hold of the tides, but were still easily within striking range. Letting a wild war cry burst from his lips, Savin led his score of nomads charging from their position to bombard the lords with arrows. There was little the puny infantry could do except try and take shelter behind their supplies or their gigantic armored knight.

"Slay them all!" Savin crowed as he fired an arrow, watching in satisfaction as a man wearing a brown cloak fell with the bolt in the thigh.

"Ugh!"

Savin turned around in shock as the nomad to his left collapsed in his saddle with an arrow through his chest. His eyes widened in shock as he realized the enemy had _no _ranged units before him! So where did the arrow come from? Upon closer inspection, the arrowhead protruded out of his comrade's chest, so that means…

"Ah! Savin, behind…!" Another arrow silenced the interruption.

Savin finally managed to turn his horse to face the forests, and there he beheld two archers, a shaman, and a mage sniping away at his forces from the rear! Caught unawares by the sudden, devastating attack from behind the rear, nearly half a dozen of Savin's nomads had been unhorsed by the barrage.

Howling in anger, Savin led four of his nomads in a direct charge on the cursed ranged units. The mage, seeing the potential danger of an all-out charge, directed his flame towards the nearby trees. This produced enough smoke to, when mingled with the fog, provide a suitable smokescreen. Savin charged on with a naked sword in his hand even though the rest of his men had peeled back. He was at the edge of the burning pines when two lances speared through the camouflage to pierce him in the chest.

"C-cavaliers?" Savin croaked brokenly as he fell off his horse, "B-but, but how?"

"No one said we couldn't double back and ambush you," one of the cavaliers said as he drew a silver blade and ended Savin's misery.

Below, Savin's forces found themselves attacked from three sides, with a pegasus knight shearing through the clouds above to take them unawares, the infantry valiantly pushing up the shore, and the deadly pair of cavaliers wreaking havoc in their back ranks.

Florina sent a nomad crashing off his horse when she noticed another foe taking aim at her from the right. Panicking slightly, she lost her grip on her slim lance when she saw the bow leveled at her. At that moment, another rider flew through the clouds and smote down both horse and rider in one blow before landing beside Florina.

"S-sister?" Florina said in disbelief, "F-Fiora?"

Fiora gazed at Florina in shock, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here with Lyn," Florina replied, "And you?"

"…Revenge," Fiora said sadly, "Revenge for the loss of my entire flight command."

"Fiora…"

* * *

Miles away, Uhai was confused at the utter silence that surrounded him. A few moments ago, he had checked his party's progress when the distinctive clinking of chain mail ceased behind him. Turning back, Uhai led his men back the beaten path, passing obstacle after obstacle as they searched for their illusive prey.

"This makes no sense," Uhai muttered aloud, "Where have they gone to? We know this island better than they do, yet we can't locate them?"

"Uhai! There are tracks over here!"

A nomad was checking the hoof prints of the cavalier's horses, "They went this way! The dirt has been recently dislodged, so the trail is still fresh."

"Follow and slay them," Uhai said, "I wish to inspect these further."

Uhai dismounted and knelt by the tracks while his command set off. Peering at the marks beneath him, Uhai suddenly sucked in a breath.

"These tracks…" He murmured, "Two horses for sure, but one set of prints are deeper into the mud. That means one of the horses was carrying a lighter load than the other…"

"Indeed it was."

Uhai dived to the side, narrowly avoiding the thrown javelin from taking him in the back. Raising his head, Uhai saw a dismounted cavalier garbed in red armor advancing upon him with a drawn sword.

"A trap," Uhai realized, "And a clever one at that. How did you know that I'd be the one to stay behind?"

"I was entirely unaware," Kent replied, "But our tactician Drake foresaw that you would be the one, and I have come to trust his judgment."

"He knows quite a bit of Sacaen ways then," Uhai said, "Only the most skillful trackers and warriors lead a Sacaen war party, he was correct in assuming I'd personally inspect these tracks. Where is your comrade?"

"Probably headed back to camp by now," Kent said, "I shall do the same with your horse after I am finished with you. Now rise, draw your sword and face me!"

"Honor," Uhai said, "Something that is so preciously rare these days, even amongst the Black Fang." He drew a scimitar of his own and assumed a battle ready stance.

"I did not want to kill you with yonder javelin," Kent gestured at the blunted weapon, "That would assassination, a heinous act for a knight."

The two champions clashed with the fury of raging lions, each a skillful and powerful warrior in their prime. Uhai danced and parried, rarely staying in one location while he feinted and stabbed with his scimitar. Kent, on the other hand, was the epitome of a stolid swordsman, neither backing away or advancing, merely holding his own and applying powerful blows one after the other. Both Kent and Uhai knew that Kent's armor would prove to be a tough challenge for Uhai's scimitar, leaving Uhai the unfortunate choice of going for a finishing blow towards the knight's head. Uhai, though possessing great agility, would suffer terribly should one of Kent's sword blows make contact. In the long run, Kent would have the decisive advantage, since Uhai was forced to resort to constant movement to dodge Kent's sword, thus tiring more easily.

Chancing a deadly lunge, Uhai ducked under Kent's horizontal slash and delivered a furious stab towards the knight's face. Relief flooded through him as he saw red blood dripping down his sword, but that was quickly extinguished when Kent flattened him with the flat of his knight sword. When he struggled to rise, Kent leveled the sword tip at Uhai's throat, his bloody left hand still clasping Uhai's scimitar.

"A well fought bout," Kent said, "But I'm afraid I cannot spare you."

"Death may be preferable than this existence within the Black Fang," Uhai said.

"Then why did you join in the first place?"

"Ideals," Uhai replied, "When I first entered the Fang, I sympathized with their ideals and their comradeship. Now, it is only a den of snakes, eaten away from the inside."

"May you find joy in a future life," Kent said as his sword smote downwards one last time.

* * *

Upon returning to camp, Kent found the group in a frenzied state of action. Though the battle had ended in a success, the injuries inflicted by Uhai's detachment of nomads were grave. Many, including Drake himself, had suffered an arrow wound of some sort. The tacticians, Ninian, Matthew and lords were deep in council, Drake neglecting to treat his injury until the rest of the soldiers have been seen to, much to Lyn's displeasure. Kent caught Drake's eye and reported the success of his mission with a curt nod of the head.

Drake nodded back, "Well done, Kent. And by the way, see to it that Sain doesn't scare off our new recruit please."

Kent bowed slightly before leaving to attend his duties.

"Now that we have secured a landing," Cecilia picked up, "We can safely begin our campaign inland. However, we are currently uncertain when another Black Fang detachment will drop in on us for another skirmish."

"Did we manage to wheedle anything out of our captives?" Lyn asked.

Hector smirked at that, "That we did. The poor fellow started spitting out nuggets of information after Matthew threatened to skin him alive to avenge Leila."

"Let's hear it," Eliwood said.

"There are multiple fortresses that provide Valor's defenses," Matthew reported, "Of the paths leading to Dragon's Gate, the majority of them must pass under a nearby compound under the command of a sage named Aion. Unfortunately, given his strategic location on route to our destination, we stand little or no chance of passing him undetected."

"If we waste time sacking his defenses," Eliwood mused aloud, "Dragon's Gate will be more prepared for our advance. Somehow, we need to bypass Aion without alerting him of our coming…"

"Or we could lead him on a wild goose chase throughout Valor while the remainder of the army marches to Dragon's Gate," Cecilia suggested.

"That's a good suggestion," Lyn said, "But we don't know the lay of the land very well."

"That can be arranged," Drake said, "Cecilia, you take the primary contingent and head for Dragon's Gate, I'll take a strike force and occupy Aion's attention."

"Are you sure about that?" Cecilia asked, "I'm rather unskilled as a tactician and you are injured. Shouldn't you lead the attack on Dragon's Gate and I'll handle Aion?"

"You do not lack skill, Cecilia, you merely lack confidence," Drake answered, "And the fact that I'm injured adds to the decision since I will be unable to keep up with the column. No, I'd play a better role relegated to the side lines for this operation."

"Should I come with you?" Lyn asked.

"Probably not," Drake said with a grimace of pain, "My force will be traveling light and fast, probably consisting only of horsemen and flyers, and of course the rather lumpy cargo that I represent."

"We can ill afford to waste time here," Hector growled, "We need to hurry and move out!"

"I'll take Florina, Fiora, Raven, Priscilla, Lowen, and Marcus," Drake said after a moment of thought, "Is that OK with you?"

"I'm fine," Cecilia replied, "Are you sure that's enough?"

"They'll have no idea how small my force is compared to theirs," Drake said, "And there lies my advantage."

"So you'll meet up with us at Dragon's Gate?" Eliwood asked.

"Hopefully," Drake said, rising slowly, "If not, then we'll meet back here at the shore. After all, we all need Fargus to get off this rock."

"How do you plan on keeping Aion's attention off of us?" Hector asked, "If we're moving at double march, we won't exactly be prepared for an ambush."

"Guerilla tactics," Drake said, "We'll knock off a few sentries on the _opposite_ side of the area from where you are marching, drawing his attention away from the main line. That should buy sufficient time for you to sneak by."

"We'll need roughly four hours to move around," Matthew thought aloud, "Think you can annoy them for long enough?"

"Maybe." _Damn, why is it that every time I figure out a convenient way to kill myself, someone always intervenes? And why couldn't that infernal nomad aim two feet higher?_

While the main group was preparing to move out, Drake gathered his team around him to explain their objectives. The majority of the group had been with him for many of the bloody battles in Lycia, and instinctively knew to follow his commands, no matter how ludicrously insane they were. Fiora, though the newest member, retained an air of calmness and dedication that rivaled even Kent. She voiced no complaints after seeing the level of trust between her sister and their commander.

"You have your orders, prepare to sortie," Drake finished.

Fiora and Florina took off with Lowen and Marcus following them towards the west with Priscilla in tow. Raven purposefully lagged behind to speak with Drake.

"You are different," Raven began, "Far different than the rumors."

Drake sighed, "I was forced to don that persona to convince you to join us and temporarily avoid coming to blows with Lord Hector."

"Then what about Priscilla?" Raven asked.

Drake's eyes turned cold as he spoke softly, "You know what I would do to her if you turned traitor…"

Raven matched him look for look, "And you know what I'd do if you even touched a single hair on her head."

Raven, however, could not emulate the demonic madness thinly veiled in Drake's eyes, "If it ever came to that, I hope you are confident enough to test your blade against the Curse of Caledonia."

Involuntarily, Raven shuddered as Drake limped ahead of him.

* * *

_That should give you all something to think about while I slave away before my computer. Thank you for reading and please review if you have the chance._

_(1) Cookie rewarded to those who can identify where that came from._


	14. Legacy of the Father

_Author's Corner:_

_This chapter will begin another perspective that may or may not have been forgotten in light of recent events: the role of Cecilia as a tactician. Typically, Cecilia is relegated to a secondary role as a tactician-in-training due to Drake's (somewhat overbearing) dominance. However, I did insert her as a tactician for a reason, as you shall see in this chapter and in the following chapters._

_**Nony **– Thanks for your review!_

_**Dude **– The pairing is still under construction, but faith is success is a good thing (I think). And yes, Raven knows the secret, but if he divulges anything, a certain red-haired troubadour would be dead of 'mysterious' circumstances._

_Shoot me with a rifle please, the shotgun would leave nothing to bury…_

_**Lao Who Mai **– Plot twists are fun to write about! I always thought that Raven was too nice after he joins the party anyways._

_**Mad-man** – Nice connection, I haven't thought about it that way, but it makes sense!_

_**Shadow Rave **– The answers will be reveaaaaaaaaled… (Sorry, couldn't help myself.)_

_**Overdrive1** – Thanks for your review!_

_**DotDotDotMan **– Meh, you're forgiven, just don't do it too many times! I still want to allow my plot twists to unfold naturally! Though the exchange between Drake and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-Aloud (Or written, whichever you prefer) will be explosive, I promise you that. Originally, I built the entire story around that one revelation as the centerpiece of the entire jigsaw puzzle._

_**Paladin2007** – I'll reveal the Curse of Caledonia at a later chapter along with other Wil/Rebecca support conversations (tweaked by me, of course). I'm glad you liked the new introductions, though I'm disappointed in regards to me being unable to fully explore their background since well, they're dead! Thanks for your review!_

_For the record, I am slightly insane, but not suicidal!_

* * *

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 13**

**Legacy of the Father**

"This will not be a tryst in the park," Hector muttered as he peered through overhanging trees.

Due to Drake's influence at Aion's fortress, many Black Fang guards were transferred elsewhere, ignorant of the diversion that Drake mounted. As such, the ruins surrounding the entrance to the Dragon's Gate saw a significant drop in defenders, but those that remained behind were more than enough to give battle to any foe.

"They have a large force," Matthew observed, "Somewhere around double our numbers, but that statistic could well neigh be worse without Drake's little feint."

"True enough," Eliwood replied, "But Father is within those walls, and we shall not leave here without him!"

"My thoughts exactly," Cecilia replied, "I apologize ahead of time for not being as skillful as Drake, but…"

"Belay that talk," Hector said, "You're the brains of the outfit now, so what's the plan?"

"But…"

"Cecilia," Eliwood said, "Drake put his faith in your skills and deemed that you were fit to command. He was confident that you would triumph against whatever foe that bars our path. Are you saying he was wrong?"

_I don't know, I just don't know! Even if Drake has carefully explained and prodded me in every battle we've come across, I still cannot accept the reins so easily! What if I fail?_

"Are you afraid?" Lyn asked.

"Yes!" Cecilia said, "Ever since Santaruz, where I almost got several of you killed! If Drake wasn't there…"

"Then that's a good thing," Lyn interrupted, "Drake used to say that fear is a good thing, since fear produces a healthy caution that prevents hastiness. We're all here for you, Cecilia, so lend us your wisdom."

Cecilia teetered for a moment, and then bit her lip. "Well," she began, "Seeing as I don't have a choice here, I'm going to imitate Lord Hector. Act first, ask questions later!"

"Hey! I resent that!"

"Matthew, do you have a general layout of their defenses?"

Matthew grinned, "A true spy would not settle for anything less. Here, catch!"

Cecilia unfurled the proffered parchment, "Laus, eh? So that means…"

"Marquis Darin will be here," Sain said, gritting his teeth, "Cecilia, leave him to me! I'll spear that gluttonous boar and roast him over a slow fire!"

"Very well," Cecilia replied, "However, remember that we are dealing with Laus elites and Black Fang veterans here, and they will be far more difficult than the rabble that Drake annihilated at the Battle of Laus. Be careful everyone!"

While Cecilia outlined her plans for the upcoming battle, Ninian hesitantly tugged on Eliwood's cloak. Eliwood turned and favored the young girl with a smile of reassurance.

"Are we really going into the scary place?"

"We must," Eliwood said gently, "But stay with me, alright? I'll protect you from whatever comes forth from those ruins."

Ninian replied with a smile of her own.

* * *

"Cameron, to me!" Darin boomed atop his steel throne.

"My lord and king," Cameron dipped to a knee, "What is you bidding?"

"A band of mice has invaded my domain," Darin commanded, "Bring me their heads, but leave the women alive. Ephidel has need of one of them; the rest may be given to the men for sport."

"You are most gracious, milord," Cameron replied, "I shall do as you command."

After the knight left, Darin laughed at the figure next to him, "So, Elbert, are you regretting your decision yet?"

"Never," the marquis of Pherae said firmly, "Your foolish daydream will come crashing down upon you, Darin. Nergal will not keep his promises, and in his madness, he will set the entire world ablaze. Surely even you can see that!"

"Lord Nergal is strong enough to bind those beasts to his will," Darin said confidently, "Even if they prove hostile, let the scaly lizards burn this world to ash! It'd be so much easier for me to take over an Elibe of fire and war than to conquer it piece by piece."

"You are both mad," Elbert stated flatly.

"Ha, foolish man," Darin sneered, "In a few short moments, I will have your son's head presented to you on a silver platter. Perhaps it'd do you some good to sue for mercy. The gods know that the future ruler of the world can afford to be merciful to a few ignominious upstarts."

Elbert paled slightly, but his voice did not waver, "My son has survived and trounced every challenge that you have sent against him. Surrounded by valiant friends and dutiful companions, he will not be easy prey for you. I believe your beloved Castle Laus is a reminder of their strength."

Darin flushed darkly at the reminder of that humiliation, "You're treading on thin ice, Elbert. Best keep your mouth shut if you wish to see this battle to the end. Or better yet, guards!"

Several Laus soldiers appeared at their master's beckoning, "Take Marquis Pherae to the temple. Lord Nergal will personally keep him, shall we say, _entertained_ until our guests arrive."

As the soldiers took Elbert away, Darin started at the voice behind him, "Lord Darin?"

A silvery-haired thief with a scar over one eye and a bandanna over his head nodded his head politely, "I'm Legault, Hurricane of the Black Fang. Lord Aion has sent a message stating that he has dealt with the intruders."

"Excellent," Darin said smugly, "Anything else?"

"Yes," Legault said, "The quartermaster has gotten disgustingly drunk again, and I'm afraid our stores…"

Darin cut him off, "Enough! That idiot will be executed for his incompetence and you will take his place. Go now, and trouble me no more."

Legault bowed slightly and left, smirking the entire time. "I'm sure Lord Darin doesn't need to know that _I _drugged the man silly. Oh wells, time to loot the stores and take my leave of this sinking ship," Legault said to himself.

* * *

"You damnable nitwits, get a move on!" Cameron roared.

Whoever designed the main entrance to the Dragon's Gate evidently never rode a horse. Of the two primary entrances, one was a narrow corridor while the other proved to be a winding path through several stone bunkers. Granted, the design would be perfect for weathering a siege, but simply catastrophic when sallying forth against the enemy. There were two other paths flanked by stout doors, but those trails only lead towards other fortresses. Unfortunately, only the narrow corridor was even remotely suitable for a cavalry rush.

Chances were that the enemies arrayed against them weren't fools. At the end of the long hallway jammed with horsemen, four warriors were holding the entire crowd at bay by situating themselves at the smallest opening possible. One armored knight, one ax-wielding lord and two archers were more than enough to utterly bog down all of Cameron's cavalry, who were trying desperately to slosh over the mud beneath them.

At this sort of bottleneck, all the archers had to do was point in the general direction with the thickest crowd and fire. Chances were that the Laus men were so cramped that they had little or no chance to maneuver and dodge the incoming shafts. Whoever managed to make it across the arrows alive was swiftly and mercilessly hewn down by lance and ax. To make the humiliation complete, those blasted archers were actually conversing with one another as if this was some sort of tea party!

"Say, Rebecca," the male archer started, "I don't suppose you came from Pherae?"

"Hm, why do you ask?"

"Well, I came from a village in Pherae, and there was also a girl at my hometown named Rebecca…"

"You're probably mistaken, Wil."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Wil apologized, "It's probably vanishingly unlikely that we came from the same village anyways. Sorry for your time!"

"Huh? Wait! Drat!" Rebecca scowled as she lost Wil's attention while she mumbled, "Could I be any more sarcastic?"

"Rebecca! Get down!"

"Wha-?" Rebecca was flattened by Wil's diving tackle just as a thrown javelin smashed into the wall where her head would have been, "T-thanks, Wil."

Cameron snapped his fingers, "Damn, missed."

"Stay sharp and don't daydream too much," Wil grinned as he got up, "The Rebecca from my hometown would shoot me full of arrows if I let someone with _her_ namesake get hurt right in front of me!"

As Wil turned around, Rebecca looked incredulously at the oblivious male, _I should shoot him full of arrows for not recognizing me in the first place!_

Originally, this narrow corridor was supposed to be a death trap for invaders. To the right of the corridor, a bunker overlooked every angle with arrow slits, perfect for mowing down any enemy. Now the singular problem was that there were only _enemy _arrows flying and no friendly support fire.

From the screams and yells erupting from the nearby bunker, it'd be safe to assume that the enemy possessed a competent lock pick as well. The archers, thinking they were safe and snug inside their stone bunkers, must've been overwhelmed by a flood of melee infantry when the heavy door slammed open.

"Where are the knights guarding the left bunker?" Cameron screamed.

A soldier limped up behind him, "Sir Cameron, the knights on guard duty were slain by their horsemen! We were caught completely unawares when both bunker doors slammed open and enemies flooded in simultaneously."

"They were just trying to bog us down in the middle," Cameron realized, "While the real attack was coming in from the wings!"

"Not exactly."

Cameron turned around just in time to see three spell casters flatten him and his horse against the wall with their spells. Two plowed into his horse while a ball of fire struck him full in the chest as Cameron slid slowly off the dying beast.

"You…" Cameron croaked before expiring, "Went around…"

"Cecilia, the outer defenses belong to you know," Erk called out, "Now we just have to enter these gates to engage Marquis Darin himself."

"Which may be difficult," Hector said as he wiped his ax, "We have crushed the exterior defenses, which would probably make Darin think twice about opening his gates."

"I could probably still manage to pick those double doors," Matthew volunteered, "However, whatever comes out next would probably flatten me."

"I have another idea," Cecilia said, "How old do you reckon these ruins are, Canas?"

Canas shrugged, "From my estimates, I'd say several hundred years at the very least."

Cecilia grinned, "How many blows does it take to knock down a shaky, cracked wall that is half a millennia in age?"

"But if we hammer the walls, the resonation would alert the guards of our presence," Eliwood pointed out.

"That's just fine," Cecilia said, "Bartre, Dorcas, there is a spot along the left wall that has a hair line crack someone found earlier. Grab several hammers from Merlinus and smack that area, making as much noise as possible. Oswin and Dart should do the same on the wall to the right with their weapons."

"Cecilia?" Lyn asked, "Eliwood did make a good point about the noise."

"I know, I want the defenders to gather at those points."

"But why would…" Eliwood caught himself, "A diversion, to get their attention away from the real threat."

"Yes," Cecilia nodded with a grin, "Matthew still gets to work on the main gate with his skeleton keys. The attacks on the walls are all bark and no bite, all sound and no damage. The disturbance will cover the slight scratching noises Matthew makes on the main gates."

"And when they fall," Kent said, "Sain and I will be able to charge in and surprise the defenders."

"Darin is mine," Sain declared, "Kent, don't touch him!"

"I understand."

* * *

Legault whistled a light tune as he merrily strolled across the harried defenders struggling to shore up the rustling walls. The two points under siege have been dropping dust for the past candle mark or so, and with no word from the outside, the mood of the besieged were considerably gloomy. Occasionally, a particularly loud crack would send the defenders scuttling for their weapons, but no visible sign of a shattered wall sent them back on their haunches. All of these dismal occurrences did not faze Legault's cheery outlook in the least.

During his brief 'appointment' as quartermaster, he had helped himself to the various choice items still left in the armory and treasury before taking his leave. On his way out, the original quartermaster had awoken briefly, only to be clubbed senseless by Legault's bag of loot. Now all the separated Legault from freedom was that one locked door and the two guards standing before it.

"Hey, you! Halt!"

"Who, me?" Legault asked, his face wearing a mask of complete innocence.

One of the guards walked forward, "Who are you, and where are you going with that?"

Legault raised an eyebrow, "You poor little newbie, you don't even know who I am? How long have you been on this rock?"

The guard looked a little uncertain, "Uh, about a month?"

"Fool, I guess I'll forgive you then," Legault said with a helpless sigh of frustration, "I am Legault, and I believe you would know that name."

The guard's eyes bulged, "Legault, as in the Hurricane? Second to none but the Four Fangs?"

"Last time I checked that was my name," Legault said dryly.

"My apologies, sir," the guard bowed quickly, "Go ahead."

"Thank you, lackey," Legault said, but was stopped as he reached for the door.

"Say, if you don't mind, may we check the bag?" The other guard stated, "Sorry, Darin's orders, sanctimonious pig that he is."

"Sure, go ahead," Legault said, confident that his loot was well concealed beneath his personal belongings. Well, confident until he heard the jingling of that priceless mithril mail which he accidentally left on _top _of his clothes.

"Err, wasn't this one of Darin's treasures from the store house?"

"Oops, you weren't supposed to see that," Legault said hastily before buffeting the guard in the chin, who dropped with a strangled cry.

"S-sir Legault? What are you doing?"

"Item #1, never refer to me as 'sir,'" Legault said, smacking the man upside the head with his goodie bag, and then tripping the hapless guard with a well aimed kick, "Item #2, never search the bags of a superior officer without just cause. Which I suppose you have, considering I'm a thief."

Legault knocked the man out cold with one last punch, "Item #3, I'm leaving the Black Fang because this once chivalrous organization has become infested with worms like you. Not entirely your fault, but I guess you can't hear me anyways, so see ya!"

With a little laugh, Legault unbarred the doors and stepped outside. Before he could even close the door, two lances were leveled inches away from his chest.

"Item #4, never speak of your plans so loudly when the walls have ears," a voice next to him said.

"So close, yet so far," Legault sighed, "I don't suppose I can bribe you with some loot?"

"I'll think about it, but you should come with us to see Marquis Darin first."

* * *

Marquis Darin was in the middle of tasting a glass of wine when the doors before him burst asunder at the charge of mounted cavaliers. Eyes widening in shock, he hastily hurtled his glass aside before bellowing for guards. Hearing the summons, Laus soldiers scrambled to defend their monarch from the enemy charge. Regrettably for the defenders, the battle was already decided before they had arrived. The invaders pressed forward in perfect order and coordination, well set in their battle formations while the defenders struggled to form a line in front of Marquis Darin. A struggle further complicated by the two cavaliers dancing through their ranks, scattering the soldiers left and right.

"Where are the western guards?" Darin screamed, "Why aren't they coming?" Only a couple of stragglers had come from the western posts, while the full complement of guards from the east wall had rushed to their master's aid.

Cecilia was in her element, a textbook example of how to crush a disorganized and confused enemy with speed and efficiency. Rebecca, Wil, Canas, and Erk she sent to blaze away at the enemy reinforcements while Lucius specifically targeted the enemy shamans. Lyn, Guy, Matthew, and Eliwood were jointly forcing enemy soldiers back in their dancing blades. No foe could last more than a few moments within the scything arcs of deadly rapiers and sabers. Beyond them, Kent and Sain were riding in circles around the lone Marquis Darin, occasionally darting in for a fearsome stab with a lance. Although the constant movement rendered them unable to pierce the stalwart armor, their harrying tactics forced Darin on the defensive and unable to aid his beleaguered men.

"Curses," Darin roared, "Where are Aion's reinforcements? That traitor said he had crushed the guerillas candle marks ago!"

Lyn faltered at that outburst and narrowly averted being spitted by an enemy lance. To her left, Eliwood pivoted quickly and finished off the spearman with a quick thrust.

"Stay sharp, Lyn!"

"Y-yes," Lyn stammered, stopping when she heard incoming footsteps from the eastern corridor. Eliwood turned to slash another soldier who was reaching for Ninian.

Two quick strides and she was at the corner, ready to slay the foolish enemy that was about to pop around the corner. As soon as she caught glimpse of a cloak, Lyn sent the Mani Katti ripping at her target.

Half a second before the blow would have told, the man ducked and narrowly avoided the decapitating strike. Rolling forward, he retrieved a lance from a fallen Laus soldier and was about to counterattack when Lyn got a good lookat her opponent.

"You have an interesting way of greeting friends, Lyn of the Lorca."

"Drake!"

"Half a foot lower and I wouldn't have dodged that," Drake replied, "You're not very subtle in dealing with strangers, are you?"

_Since when were you a stranger?_ Lyn smiled slightly, "Not really."

"Legault was kind enough to let us in on this little brawl," Drake said, motioning towards the silver-haired thief in the back, "Shall we rejoin the melee?"

"Of course."

The addition of Florina, Fiora, Marcus, and Lowen swiftly turned a one-sided battle into a complete rout. Combining their strength, all four cavaliers charged as one unstoppable hammer to smash Marquis Darin from his steel throne. Backing up ungracefully and fighting for balance, Marquis Darin was unprepared to meet the deadly knight sword of a vengeful Sain.

Urging his destrier forward, Sain did not lessen the pressure in the slightest. His flurry of sword strokes clanged all over Marquis Darin's armor, upsetting the man's balance even further. Marquis Darin tried his utmost to ward off the persistent cavalier with his lance, but his lack of footing rendered his resistance futile. Inevitably, Sain struck a furious blow that rattled Marquis Darin from helm to boot, causing the giant armored knight to finally lose his balance utterly and fall over with a thundering crash.

Sain sprang from his saddle with sword in hand as he towered over the prone general. Unable to raise himself due to the overwhelming weight of his armor, Marquis Darin could only watch helplessly as Sain clasped his sword in both hands.

"M-mercy!"

"Mercy?" Sain said coldly, "You who defiled our beautiful Caelin and breathe ruin upon the people of Elibe, sue for mercy? Those who suffered underneath your yoke can now breathe easier knowing you shall trouble them no more. Farewell, coward!"

Sain's sword stabbed downwards into the junction between armor and helm, into the one opening that presented flesh rather than unyielding steel.

Darin, one-time marquis of Laus, self-proclaimed ruler of the world, gurgled briefly before yielding his life to the clutches of death.

* * *

"I must applaud you for removing such a worthless fool from our presence," a cloaked man said from behind a pillar.

"Who goes there?" Hector asked.

"You may call me," the man threw back his hood, "Ephidel…"

"You…" Hector growled, "I was looking forward to this."

"A gallant gesture," Ephidel replied, "If not futile…"

"What is your purpose?" Eliwood asked, standing in front of Hector.

Ephidel pointed at Ninian, "Oh, the girl of course."

Before anyone could respond, Ephidel charged forward with inhuman speed. Guy and Lyn, being slightly quicker on their feet, dashed forward to intercept the morph. Despite their best efforts, Ephidel tucked Ninian under one arm and leapt backwards over the entire host, landing lightly before the path to Dragon's Gate.

"Follow me," Ephidel said emotionlessly, "If you dare!"

Without waiting for a reply, Ephidel took off for Dragon's Gate with his captive. Without hesitation, Cecilia and the three lords sped off in pursuit. Drake paused long enough to whisper something in Marcus' ear, who promptly nodded.

"Leave it to me, Sir Drake," Marcus affirmed.

Inside the cavern leading to Dragon's Gate, the five of them paused to survey their surroundings. The architecture was obviously not wrought by human hands, the great slabs of marble and stone could never have been lifted to their current locations. Upon those great stones, hieroglyphics of foreign markings could scarcely be made out, so worn were they from the ravages of time. Four titanic towers stood sentinel over the great stone bridge that led to the Dragon's Gate, each one with a lighted torch atop its monumental pyres. Below the bridge lay a great chasm of darkness where no light penetrated. Only the gods knew how far into the cold embrace of the earth the abyss descended. Certainly no mortal of this age possessed the lost knowledge of the dragons.

Lyn's Sacaen eyes were the first to adjust to the dimly lit interior, "There!"

One by one, the group was able to make out a gigantic doorway of some sort made up of three slabs of stone. Two were vertically placed with the third horizontally set atop the two. It was what stood at the base of the gateway that held their attention. At their distance, standing scarcely a finger's length, were Ninian, Ephidel, Marquis Elbert, and a nameless man garbed in a dark turban and cloak.

"I'd assume he is Nergal," Cecilia said.

"Only one way to find out," Hector said as they descended over the bridge.

As they drew near to the gate itself, Eliwood saw Ephidel strike his father, sending Elbert tumbling back. Breaking into a run, Eliwood and his friends quickly reached the stunned Marquis Elbert.

"Father!"

"So, Marquis Pherae," Nergal said, "Truly your lineage is one of perseverance to penetrate so far into my sanctuary."

"Eliwood," Elbert struggled to speak, "It does not matter now, get the girl and flee from here!"

"What?"

"You shall not pass," someone interrupted them.

Lyn turned and half drew her sword at the suddenness of those words. Before them stood another cloaked man, his eyes void of emotion and his hands holding a pair of daggers that could've sheared through any armor like a hot knife through butter.

"You'd do well to heed his advice," Ephidel said, "Jaffar, the Angel of Death is not lightly named, and amongst the Black Fang, there are few who do not fear him."

"The Angel of Death, eh?" Hector growled, "This I have to see for myself." He drew his ax and prepared to charge Jaffar when Drake stopped him.

"Drake?"

"Desist, you fool," Drake said, "You could kill you in a heartbeat, then wipe his blades and forgotten that he had killed you. You are not ready to face him yet."

"At least your tactician is wise," Nergal scoffed, "It avails you little, however. Jaffar, you are done here, return to Bern at once."

Jaffar gave the barest hint of a nod, and then he was gone. Only the floating dust where he once stood testified that he was once amongst them.

"Now," Nergal said haughtily, "In light of your accomplishment, I shall reward you with a little reward for your viewing pleasure. At the expense of Lord Elbert, I'm afraid. Ninian?"

Ninian, her normal vibrant eyes exchanged for a pale, dead shade of red, gestured towards Marquis Elbert. Immediately, Elbert fell to his knees and begun convulsing in pain, as if an unseen force was tearing his soul from him. Ninian began to sing softly.

_"All power of the dragon forefathers, I call upon thee to witness and devour this sacrifice. Drink of this life and surrender to me the keys of immortality, of the darkest hells and of the highest heavens. Open forth the cursed path, and let the light of your children grace this land…"_

Marquis Elbert's screams did little to drown out the intonation.

Ninian's voice lowered a few notches and Marquis Elbert fell heavily to the floor. Behind them all, the Dragon's Gate shuddered and groaned, the pitch black darkness that stood in its doorway flashed into a brilliant light, flickering with undying flames. The entire cavern tremble as if in terror when a terrible head emerged from the gate along with a scaly claw with flames still dancing hungrily upon it.

Cecilia paled, "It can't be…"

"A… Dragon?" Lyn said in disbelief.

"A monster from the Scouring," Eliwood said in dismay.

Just when the beast was about to roar to life, a soft tune broke the hold of Ninian's song. Soft and light, yet firm with power and overbearing in authority, the tune was almost a counter melody of Ninian's song. The two musical voices intwined and fought one another for a brief moment before canceling one another note for note, harmony for melody. The dragon, still emerging from the portal and losing its connection due to the musical interference, roared in rage. The flames, almost dying when the scaly claw first emerged, burst into life and covered the dreaded beast.

"Damn you! Nils!" Nergal screamed in rage.

"N-Nils... Nils?" Ninian slowly snapped out of her reverie, her eyes reverting to a normal reddish hue, "What? What's going on?"

Seeing the confusion that ran amok, Eliwood seized his chance. Dashing forward, he grabbed Ninian and drew her away from Nergal's distracted clutches. Ephidel moved to stop him, but was halted when Drake tackled him, thrusting the morph backwards into the flaming dragon.

Those who play with dangerous magic know that if too polar opposites are mixed with one another, usually something cataclysmic occurs. This was no exception. Flame Dragons, vibrant in life and born of the devouring flame, are beings that tread in the light. A morph, created from the nether energies that are drawn from living creatures by necromancerswielding dark powers, is naturally at odds with a light-blessed creature. Throw the two together and mix, the result is naturally an explosion.

Ephidel screamed horribly as the inexorable fire drew him into its warm embrace just as the dying dragon roared its pain. The cacophony of sounds ended in a hell born cry that rendered everyone deaf for several long moments. Dragon and morph disappeared in a shower of dark flames, doomed to linger on the plane of existence called the Void.

Nils hastily ran to Ninian and was relieved to find his sister exhausted, but otherwise unharmed. Meanwhile, a furious Nergal stalked closer to the group before him.

"Failed," Nergal rasped, "So close but for your infernal meddling, Nils!"

Nils was defiant, "We will not do your bidding!"

"We shall see about tha… Ach!" Nergal bit down an oath as he stared down at a dagger protruding from his chest.

"F-forgot… Forgot about… Me…" Elbert gasped, "Did you?"

Nergal flung the dying lord from him before wrenching the knife out. Gritting his teeth from the burning pain in his bosom, Nergal vanished into the shadows before Hector could finish him.

"Father!" Eliwood said joyfully, "You're alright!"

Elbert smiled sadly, "No, I-I am done… I shall, not… This rock alive…"

Eliwood paled, "D-don't be ridiculous. You're coming home with me, to see Mother!"

"Eleanora," Elbert said with tears in his eyes, "Ah, I shall not see her beauty again… I have failed both of you…"

"Don't say that," Eliwood choked, "You will live!"

"Eliwood," Elbert grasped his son's hand with his remaining strength, "Nergal… He will return… One such as he will not die from that wound…"

"Father…"

"Promise me," a flame of determination burned in Elbert's eyes, "Promise me you will stop him! Do not let him burn our beloved Elibe! P-Promise…"

"I promise, Father," Eliwood said, "Now let's go home."

Marquis Elbert did not reply.

"Father?"

"Marquis Elbert?"

Drake placed a hand on a sobbing Eliwood, "Mourn later, Marquis Pherae. Now we must leave Valor before they return. Or else, Lord Elbert's sacrifice would be in vain."

"It'll take time for the army to reach the beachhead," Cecilia noted, wiping the tears from her face.

"They have already left," Drake replied, "Only Kent, Sain, Fiora, and Florina will remain behind to wait for our arrival. Marcus I sent to lead the army back to the shores of Valor. Now come, we must make haste before Nergal can unleash more henchmen upon us!"

Drake's command stirred the fiber of obedience within them, and as one they rose and followed him out of the darkness into the sunlight.

* * *

_I've added in a few more support conversations and will continue to give them little touches along the way. Then again, since I won't be developing the relationships of the respective supports, they will remain minor portions of this ongoing fiction. Thank you for reading and please review if you have the time!_


	15. Curse of Caledonia

_Author's Corner:_

_If you were wondering, I have intentionally kept most of the details regarding Drake's past in the dark up to this point. You can count on several major plot twists to appear in the near future that will, for good or ill, change your perspective of Drake. And now, I shall unveil the true meaning of the words 'Curse of Caledona' (at the end of the chapter, so don't read ahead). Earlier parts of this chapter will largely focus on explaining things, however much I hate to follow the script. I will be tweaking it as much as possible. I apologize for the tardiness of this update, as I was drumming up a different 'strategy.'_

_**Dude **– What makes you think no one identified Drake on Valor? Just because the rank and file Black Fang member didn't point him out doesn't mean everyone missed him. Read on and find out!_

_**Shadow Rave **– Yes, unfortunately the power to write and update belongs solely to the discretion of the author. I have also come across various fictions that abruptly stop updating for long periods of time. I'll try not to become one of those._

_**Mad-man **– Err, is that a compliment? If so, thanks._

_**DotDotDotMan **– Now I'm REALLY confused… 'I was bawling my eyes out…' Was the previous chapter that bad? If it was that terrible, I'll definitely step it up and improve._

_**Dias of All Final **– Trust me, you'll be seeing a lot more of Cecilia-in-command in several chapters. Then again, Cecilia's style contrasts significantly with Drake's method. Cecilia likes to tell everyone what's going to happen, but Drake prefers to hold all the cards in his hand._

_**Paladin2007** – Supports might be more frequent, depending on how much I have to write per chapter. However, there is the underlying problem that if I devote too much time to added in conversations, some of the battles may suffer (like in this chapter). Hopefully not too much._

_**Missklutzzz** – Thank you for your review! You'll be seeing a much, much more twisted tactician. (Cues evil laugh)_

* * *

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 14**

**Curse of Caledonia**

_April 23rd, Dragon's Gate,_

"Are you certain that it is he?"

"Positive, master," a robed figure bobbed his head, his knees still bent before Nergal.

"And why haven't you kept note of his location over these seven months?" Nergal asked furiously.

The spy trembled in fear, "We lost him at the border of Etruria… M-Master Nergal…"

"Incompetent wretch," Nergal rasped, "He would've made a powerful morph, capable of tearing this world apart piece by piece and laying waste to all who oppose me! With his genius directing the war, I'd have more than enough quintessence at the rate he spills blood!"

"I-I apologize, master," the spy quailed, "F-forgive me! Please!"

"Limstella," the morph appeared at Nergal's summons, "Remove him from my sight."

As the piteous wails of the doomed mortal echoed faintly through the halls, Nergal strode slowly and painfully towards the Dragon's Gate. Stroking the great stone gate gently, he burst into a mad fit of laughter.

"How pitifully you shackle the dread demon that languishes inside of you! Why not unleash that monstrosity upon the weak of this world? You cannot deny your thirst for slaughter much longer!"

Nergal whirled around, his mad eye twitching with glee, "Your pathetic humanity is insufficient to conceal your darkest desires… Become my faithful morph and drown yourself in fresh blood, Cursed One of the West!"

* * *

_April 24th, at the Leaping Leviathan in Badon,_

_To say that our campaign ended in complete failure would be an incorrect conjecture. To say that MY campaign ended in dismal defeat would be entirely correct. I had hopes that I would be able to undertake one last journey to repair the harm I caused, and then finally obtain the eternal rest that I so desperately crave. As usual, the gods mock me, the fates toy with me, and we return from Valor with a corpse. Now, with a fresh mission laid before us and several vengeful members in our party quite eager to rend Nergal apart bit by bit, I wager that this journey has just… hit its first intermission. Father Sky, I know you're laughing at me._

"Well?" Cecilia asked, "How is he doing?"

"Terrible," Hector said as he came down the stairs, "Hasn't said a word since he plopped down in that chair. That girl, Ninian, is with him, but so far neither of us has managed to get a response from him."

"He's still probably in a state of shock," Lyn surmised, "I was in a similar state when my tribe was scattered by bandits."

Drake grimaced visibly at that comment, though the rest were not aware of the true reason, "Nevertheless, Lord Eliwood is now the Marquis of Pherae, and those who take on the mantle of responsibility cannot afford to mope around forever. Then again, I'd be inhuman to deny him a few hours of respite."

"Just a few hours?" Hector asked, "Why not several days?"

"I highly doubt that we will be given several days to spend at our leisure," Drake replied dryly, "Though Nergal is incapacitated and Valor is in chaos, the Black Fang's reach will still reach us in Badon. It is unlikely they will leave us alone after the ruckus we've caused at Badon."

"That's true," Cecilia agreed, "With Lord Elbert so recently dead and our rescue operation so rebuffed, the army's morale would not be at its highest. Add a lord overwhelmed with grief to the mix and we could face an ugly upcoming battle."

"What I'm curious is," Lyn said, "Why is Nergal so interested in Ninian and Nils?"

"Let me answer that," Nils said as he came out of the adjacent room.

"Let's move to a secured room," Hector suggested, "The walls may have ears around this place."

The group entered a small suite near Eliwood's room and gathered around the table. Outside the window, Matthew and Erk were on watch while the doorway was guarded by Dorcas and Bartre. The remainder of the army had largely retired for the evening, but sleep came to only a few on that restless night.

"I believe a few introductions are in order," Lyn said to Nils, "Drake and I you already know. This is Cecilia, another one of the talented commanders advising us in battle. The gruff-looking man over there is Hector of Ostia. He may look mean and scary, but he's somewhat tolerable underneath."

Hector was about to retort when Cecilia thwacked him with a spell tome in the back of the head. Nils giggled while Drake sighed, "Nils, let's have your story."

"Alright," Nils said, "Shortly after we parted ways with Lyn a year ago, the Black Fang apprehended us and took us to Valor. It was there that we first met Marquis Elbert. I daresay that neither Ninian nor I would've been alive now, so full of despair were we, had not Lord Elbert comforted us with stories of his wife and son. It was through his efforts that we managed to get on board a boat and attempt to leave Valor."

"Why did Nergal need the two of you?" Hector asked, "Is it to call dragons into Elibe?"

"Close," Nils corrected, "He needs us to open the Dragon's Gate. Nergal can call the dragons himself, but that requires tremendous amounts of quintessence. Quintessence is similar to your life energy, and, according to Nergal, the amount varies from person to person depending on the strength of their will. Naturally, if your quintessence is stolen from you, you cannot survive."

"Which is what happened to Lord Elbert," Cecilia murmured.

"Nergal apparently wants to conver a dragon's quintessence to his own use," Nils continued, "However, in order to do that, he'd require vast amounts of quintessence, which would be difficult to come by, since it is quite difficult to find individuals with strong quintessence within them. To solve that problem, Nergal plotted to have Marquis Darin start a war throughout Elibe."

"What for?" Hector asked.

"Elementary deduction," Drake interrupted, "A large scale war would produce many casualties, which translates into a massive amount of quintessence drawn from the innumerable dead on the battlefields. In short, quantity over quality is his chief aim through the war."

"That monster," Hector growled, "I will have him pay for that!"

"He is indeed a monster," Nils said, "Nergal uses quintessence on himself as well, lengthening his lifespan and rendering him nearly immortal. The wound Lord Elbert dealt him will not kill him, though it will take much time to heal."

"So what is our next move?" Hector asked.

Cecilia had a ready answer, "We inform Lord Uther of course." Cecilia had a mischievous grin on her face while Drake merely nodded. Hector scowled at that.

Lyn was confused, "Why is Hector…"

"Angry?" Cecilia laughed, "Because Lord Hector hasn't informed Lord Uther about anything we've done so far."

"Did you think I had the time to tell my brother that there are several madmen out to take over the world?"

"Well, you certainly didn't have the time," Cecilia noted, "But I'm sure Lord Uther would appreciate knowing that someone is out to summon dragons without even a 'as you please.'"

Everyone except Drake and Hector laughed at that.

Drake cleared his throat, "We'll rest in Badon for tonight before heading off to Ostia on the morrow. It'd be best if we could arrange a meeting somewhere outside of Castle Ostia, preferably in a secure fortress of some sort."

"Outside? Why?" Nils asked.

"Ostia is, after all, the head of the Lycian Council," Drake explained, "It would raise fearsome international inquiries as to why Marquis Ostia needed to see _three_ Lycian lords at such short notice, not counting a battered army and a newly dead Marquis Pherae."

"That's true," Cecilia said, "Let's inform Lord Eliwood and turn in for the night."

As they paused before the foot of the stairs, Ninian came out of Eliwood's room and closed the door quietly. Shaking her head, Ninian wiped away a few tears before becoming aware of their presence.

"Ah," Ninian started, "I apologize for disturbing your rest, milady."

"I haven't turned in yet," Lyn replied cheerfully, "How's Eliwood doing?"

That threatened to bring the girl to tears again, "Still no change, and seeing him like that… I just can't…"

"Nils," Drake whispered, "Take your sister to your room," he raised his voice slightly, "Lord Hector, Lyn, and Cecilia, watch and do not interfere with what I'm about to do."

Mystified, Nils and Ninian departed after Drake led Lyn, Hector, and Cecilia into Eliwood's room. Hector closed the door while Drake halted not two feet before the sitting Eliwood. Anyone could tell from the horror and grief stricken eyes that the young man was replaying the scene of his father's death over and over again in his eyes, and finding little comfort in memories. His rapier lay carelessly tossed upon the bed, the cloak draped haphazardly over the table, and Eliwood's own bedraggled state all testified that the young lord was quite detached from the world as of this moment.

Drake sighed, took a deep breath…

…And socked Eliwood furiously in the face.

* * *

"Kent, my brother of the sword, why is it that you are paired with the beauteous lady and I'm relegated to sentry duty?" Sain complained. 

Kent rolled his eyes, "Sain, however much I hate to admit it, allowing you to guide a new _female _recruit through the layout of our army is not simply trouble. It is more synonymous to inviting disaster to a cup of tea. Tell me with a straight face that you will be utterly civil and courteous and I'll instantly switch places with you." _The gods know I'm terrible with those of the opposite gender._

Sain instantly turned around and fixated Kent and Fiora with deadly serious face, "I swear upon my honor that I shall treat the lady with utmost chivalry and respect."

Kent could easily see the laughter dancing in Sain's eyes. Not wishing to spoil his companion's fun yet, Kent turned to Fiora, "Well, Dame Fiora? What do you say?"

Fiora seemed to consider this for a moment, "Hey, is that Florina over there?"

"Huh? Where is she?" Sain turned around frantically, "Alas, how could I have missed such a goddess of perfection and grace? Woe is me!"

Kent slapped himself in the forehead, _Gullible, thy name is Sain._

"I think I will be declining your offer, Sir Sain," Fiora remarked.

Sain seemed at a loss until Matthew chanced to drop by laughing, "She totally broadsided you there, Sain! Thanks for relieving me, by the way. Serra would have my head if her 'handsome and courageous escort' was late by a few minutes. I can agree with the handsome and courageous part, but I'll never agree to being an escort."

After Matthew took off with a biffed Sain in tow, Fiora said, "Those of opposite genders mix quite easily in this army, don't they?"

"That they do," Kent said, "I despair at how Drake keeps everyone in fighting order without having emotions get in the way. I understand that Ilia's flying fleet would never encounter this problem?"

"Naturally," Fiora replied as they continued towards the stables, "Since we're all women. Emotions are a liability on the battlefield."

"True, it tends to cloud reason and a soldier becomes unable to make calm, rational decisions." Kent said as he pointed at and identified several of the sentries, then stopped short at the shrill whistle that shattered the silence of the night, "We're under attack! Get word to the lords!"

* * *

Typically, when words do little to awaken someone from their stupor, pain will usually suffice. That was certainly the case as Eliwood fell out of his chair from the blow, staring up in surprise at Drake while completely ignoring his split lip. Said tactician strode forward and hauled the stunned lord upright by the collar. 

"Get up," Drake hissed, "Stand up, Eliwood!"

Bewildered, everyone could only gape in shock at the sudden change in Drake's demeanor.

"You are Pherae incarnate," Drake thundered, "In your father's place, you must become Marquis Pherae, lord of your lands and the leader of your people. This duty has been thrust into your hands and whether you will or no, it is your responsibility to lead! You can mourn Lord Elbert after you have finished the charge he laid upon you. Now is the time to act!"

"But, I… Father…"

"Cease your miserable excuses!" Drake growled, "When I first met you, I believed you to be an idealistic individual capable of great feats. If the fall of a loved one is such a staggering blow such that you are blinded from your path, then I have sorely misjudged you!"

"Drake!" Bartre knocked on the door, "We have visitors this evening!"

Taking a brief moment to calm himself, Drake adopted a neutral expression in exchange for his previous raging personality, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. Drake casually dropped Eliwood, "How many and from which direction?"

"We can't count their numbers in the darkness of the night, but they're swarming in from the east."

"Rouse the army and prepare to sortie," Drake commanded, "I'll meet them in the town square outside the Leaping Leviathan."

Rapid, pounding footsteps signaling that his orders were being carried out, Drake turned back to Lyn, Hector and Cecilia. "Come, arm yourselves and prepare for battle."

"What about Eliwood?" Hector demanded.

Drake barely glanced at him, "Let him vegetate here if he so wishes or perhaps he'll join us to give battle. It matters not."

As the four of them stepped out into the hallway, pandemonium was raging as members of the army, distraught at the sudden assault, allowed confusion to run amok through the halls. Shaking his head again, Drake took a deep breath and bellowed, "Silence fools!"

Dozens of pair of eyes turned to regard their tactician as a gentle placidity descended upon the once heated hallway.

"The enemy has already engaged the sentries and is almost upon us," Drake said evenly, "Now quit your squabbling, arm yourselves, and assemble outside the inn post haste. Now go now!"

"I've never seen this happen to you before," Lyn remarked as the army scrambled to obey, "Rarely do you lose your temper, Drake."

"Sometimes," Drake leveled a look at Cecilia and Lyn, "It requires the force of personality to galvanize an army into action. Same could be said of what I just did in the previous room."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cecilia replied.

"Milady, danger approaches," Ninian warned as she appeared with Nils.

"I understand," Lyn said, "Ninian, Nils, stay inside the inn. We'll move out and deal with the attackers."

"I-I'll go see to Lord Eliwood," Ninian said.

"I'll help you in battle," Nils volunteered, "I can play…"

Cecilia cut him off gently, "Nils, shouldn't you be with your sister right now?"

"Oh, yeah," Nils said sheepishly, "I guess you're right."

Hector, Lyn, Cecilia and Drake hurried down to lobby of the inn where they found Oswin waiting for them.

"The army is assembled and awaits your command," Oswin reported.

"Any update on the intruders?" Cecilia asked.

"They claim to be the Black Fang," Oswin said.

As soon as the five of them exited the Leaping Leviathan, a wyvern rider, perched on the roof and hidden in the darkness of the night, leapt out of cover and pounced upon his unsuspecting prey.

* * *

"Lord Eliwood?" Ninian asked as she entered the room. 

"Hm? What is it?"

Ninian stopped and stared at a reinvigorated Eliwood adjusting his cloak and buckling on his rapier, fully intent on taking the fight to the enemy.

"Yes, Ninian?" Eliwood's words shook Ninian from her reverie, "Is there something on my face?" She blushed at being caught staring.

"L-Lord Eliwood," Ninian stammered, "Are you doing into battle?"

"Yes," there was no hesitation in his voice, only a steely determination, "Drake was right. I have made an absolute fool of myself and dishonored my father's memory by moping around here like a lost puppy. I daresay he should smack me more often, certainly it didn't do me any harm."

"Lord Eliwood, your cheek…"

Eliwood smiled, "It'll be fine. I deserve to be flattened again by Drake if I complain about such a paltry injury!"

"T-then at least let me help you," Ninian said desperately, "I wish to help, in any manner whatsoever!"

Eliwood thought for a moment, and then grinned, "I know! When this battle is done and over with, show me one of your dances. I'm sure you can come up with something special for me, right?"

"A… special… dance?"

"Uh…" Eliwood blushed, "I didn't mean for it to sound that way. Please, forgive me for sounding too forward."

"No, no," Ninian replied, "I'd be glad to dance for you."

"Dancing," Eliwood's eyes took on a faraway look, "My mother loved to dance. Every year at the festival, she would find the strength to dance the entire night away. Father never really approved, but always danced with her throughout the entire time."

"Lord Elbert…"

"Ah, forgive me," Eliwood said, "You must think of my father enough already. But remember, Ninian, Father's death was not your fault. Nergal was the only one responsible, and Nergal shall be the only one to pay for his crimes."

"But, Lord Eliwood," Ninian protested, trying to hold back her tears in vain, "You're wrong, because I have been de-"

Eliwood silenced her by putting a finger gently on her lips and grinned, "As Drake would say, 'no excuses.' I'll see you after the battle, so take care until I return."

As the young lord quitted the room, Eliwood never heard the young girl behind him ask despairingly, "Why? Why do you shower us with compassion and faith?"

* * *

"Lyn!" 

Florina, though hesitant towards men, was never slow to defend her friends. Urging Huey on, knight and pegasus converged upon the diving wyvern in a torrent of wings. The wyvern rider, hesitating for a brief moment, jerked on his steed and tried to stop his attack. Unfortunately, he underestimated the speed that a pegasus was capable of. As luck would have it, Florina speared the ambusher straight off his mount while the wyvern flew away in fright.

"Lyn, are you alright?" Florina asked as Huey remained gracefully in the air.

"Yes, I'm…" Lyn started, but was interrupted by Drake.

"Get down, Florina! Ballista!"

Turning around, Florina beheld a ballista bolt flying straight towards her. Fear consumed her and Florina remained stiffly in the saddle, staring wide-eyed at the incoming bolt. Huey, however, was made of firmer stuff, and gave a quick twist to shift his rider. The catch was that Florina was completely unsynchronized with her pegasus due to her fear of arrows. With a shriek of surprise, Florina found herself falling from her pegasus and the cold, hard cobblestones racing to meet her.

"Got you!"

When Florina re-opened her eyes, she noticed that she wasn't dashed to pieces on the ground. Instead, a certain blue-haired lord had managed to cushion her fall _again_.

"Hey, are you all right?" Hector asked.

Florina blushed and stammered something unintelligible.

"Err… Lord Hector," Cecilia said, "You might want to put her down and prepare for the next batch."

"Oh right," Hector set Florina down before looking skywards, "Oh crap…"

A certain flustered pegasus floored Hector face first into the unyielding ground below. Glancing around anxiously, Huey pranced off a prone Hector and merrily made his way to Florina's side. Hector slowly got up, dusting himself off and trying to deal with a bloody nose.

"Damn you, Cecilia," Hector growled, "I swear by the gods, the two of you will be the death of me. Not counting that flying horse over there, of course."

They were sharing a good laugh when Hector felt someone tug his sleeve. Turning around, he found a very, very nervous Florina staring at him.

"L-Lor… Lord… Hec…"

"Come on, out with it," Hector asked, "What is it?"

"I… I… Than…"

Grabbing the young girl by the shoulders, Hector shook Florina, "What do you want?"

"THANK YOU, LORD HECTOR!" Florina screamed in fright.

Said lord covered his ears as he tried to recover his hearing while Florina gaped in disbelief, "I did it! I managed to say thank you!"

Hector growled, "That's it, you're not leaving my side, you and your Elimine-forsaken horse! I have to keep the two of you out of trouble, even if it shortens my lifespan even more than that infernal Cecilia does."

"Hey, I resent that!"

"So don't leave my side in battle, you hear me?" Hector said.

"Yes… Lord Hector," Florina said meekly.

"Did I miss something?" Eliwood asked as he emerged from the inn.

"No, nothing," Hector lied.

Eliwood frowned, "Then what's with those black hoof prints on the back of your armor?"

"What? I just polished that yesterday!"

Drake slapped himself in the forehead and murmured, "Sometimes, I don't believe I know them."

"Let the children play, Drake," Lyn said, "By the way, are you ready to deal with the intruders?"

"Maybe."

* * *

Oleg frowned at the utter silence that surrounded Badon. Given that this was Badon after all, the villagers were quite used to rowdy pirate or bandit crews lustily singing raucous drinking ditties and regular mobs. An invasion force intent on assassinating visitors was something else entirely. Hence why the majority of the inhabitants barred their doors and hid shuddering in their beds. Oleg's forces had secured nearly half the city, but his targets had betrayed no sign that they were aware of his approach. 

Surely an army that had penetrated to the depths of Valor in less than a week would be competent enough to see him coming. Surely an army capable of injuring Lord Nergal possessed the strength to give him a challenge. Unless, of course, they already knew of his presence, but were merely _baiting_ him into thinking they weren't prepared.

"Oleg?" Le Raston asked, "What are we waiting for?"

Le Raston had once been the favored son of a noble house in Bern. The minor technicality was that he was the second son of the said noble house. Bern, like other nations in Elibe, utilized a principle of primogeniture, which caused the eldest son to inherit everything from their noble father, be they lands, titles, riches, etc. Naturally, this left the other sons, like Le Raston, out of the loop. His older brother, worried that their father's favoritism would make Le Raston the heir despite the common practice, took advantage of their father's illness to oust Le Raston from the family home. Left with nothing but his skills as a wyvern rider, Le Raston drifted from city to city before finding a new home in the Black Fang.

"We are waiting for a sign of certain victory before proceeding," Oleg replied.

Le Raston frowned, "Why don't we just charge them? They have nothing that could possibly stop a charge of wyverns."

"If you are too confident of a victory beforehand," Oleg cautioned, "You will miss a pitfall that you easily could've avoided had you exercised discretion."

Oleg hailed from the Western Isles, starting his career as a bandit before later joining the Black Fang. As a bandit, he had fought in the Subjugation Wars ten years ago on the isles of Caledonia and Fibernia. Etrurian armies had fiercely fought the resident pirates and bandits for control of the fabulously wealthy mines that lay across the Western Isles. Untold acts of brutality, cruelty, and treacheryhad taught Oleg that strength is always needed, but if caution did not follow quickly, strength is doomed to defeat. Le Raston, pampered son of a noble that he was, evidently never learned that.

"Oleg!"

"What is it?"

A bloody, red-haired mercenary limped up, still holding his left arm, "We've lost contact with the crew on 4th Street."

Oleg raised an eyebrow while Le Raston cursed, "How, may I ask? The 4th Street detachment had a ballista as well, along with nearly a dozen guards. Not counting there were three patrol groups that could easily lend aid to an attacked station."

The mercenary twitched, "I'm all that remains of the group, Oleg."

Oleg turned around at that while Le Raston grabbed the man's injured shoulder. "You're lying!" Le Raston roared, "There were fully thirty men down there, and you're telling me that they are all dead except you?"

"Charlie," Oleg warned, addressing Le Raston by his first name, "He's going to pass out at the rate you're gripping his shoulder."

Le Rason let go of the struggling soldier, who grunted in pain, "I told you never to call me that, Oleg."

"True, but it gets your attention really quickly," Oleg said, "Now, tell me how they finished off our comrades."

"They ambushed us," the mercenary gasped out, "The cavaliers charged into our group, but left after only slaying the archer managing the ballista, and then baited us into the 5th Street intersection. There, we were set upon by a three-sided ambush, archers and mages on one side, cavaliers turning to give battle, and a knight approaching from the other. I managed to flee, the others were cut down almost instantly."

"Idiots," Oleg mumbled, "I told them not to leave their post at all costs!"

"Then what about the infernal patrols?" Le Raston frothed.

"They were apparently attacked at the same time," the mercenary continued, "I came upon two of three patrols lying dead, with a combination of sword and ax wounds all over them. Just as I reached the final patrol, they were set upon by two pegasi riders diving down on them through the clouds. Caught unawares, they fell before I could warn them. I doubled back here as quickly as my legs could carry me afterwards."

Le Raston was dumbfounded, "That's impossible, how could they have possibly known about the patrols too? And struck them precisely when all forms of reinforcements have been conveniently removed?"

"They know where we are located," Oleg growled, "There must be a position in Badon that commands the view of the entire surrounding area. They can't chance using pegasi to scout with your wyverns and the ballista platform that still remains to us."

"There is," the mercenary elaborated painfully, "The Leaping Leviathan is the tallest building in all of Badon."

"That is also where the children are," Le Raston said, "We can kill two birds with one stone if we strike swiftly."

"Except they'll be prepared for our coming," Oleg thought aloud, "That's why they took the 4th Street ballista, as an added deterent against our direct assault on the inn. Very well, I shall personally attack the ballista platform there. Le Raston, after I begin the attack, take your wyverns and ransack the inn if necessary. Find the children at all costs!"

"Permission to slaughter all who resist?"

"Granted."

No one remarked on the mercenary's departure, deducing that the man evidently left in search of a healer.

* * *

Oleg and his personal guard crept forward, each a skilled murderer or assassin well trained in their art. Using the shadows, Oleg and his two dozen warriors hid in the alcoves not twenty yards from the ballista platform located in the middle of the 4th Street. Ahead of them, roughly a dozen men were guarding the platform in complete darkness. To the casual observer, the fact that there were no torches lit in the area may have been a deadly mistake, but to those seasoned in war, there was a definite method to the madness. Torches readily gave away your numbers to the enemy, hence why these frontline 'fire bases' were rarely well lit, as torches could betray their location as well as paint a big red target sign for any approaching sniper. Only a well fortified base camp would be illuminated with fire. 

A hand ax came whistling through the air and splattered messily into one of Oleg's guards, who fell heavily into the street. The guards became instantly aware and charged Oleg's men, who in turn charged with weapons bared. A fearsome battle erupted, but Oleg and his battle-hardened men had the mastery. Man after man fell before Oleg's great ax, until only the enemy leader still stood. Stout and clad in armor, the knight was forced to his knees by two of Oleg's bodyguards.

"Hmph," Oleg panted, which indirectly masked his voice as he gasped, "You gave us a fight. We outnumbered you two to one, and you still managed to nearly give us a one for one casualty rate. Unhelm him and bring me a torch, let me see what he looks like."

This was speedily done, but when Oleg and his prisoner saw one another, the effect was quite similar to a deadly blow to the gut.

"Dorf Clawson?"

Oleg's prisoner and captain of the 4th Street squad asked in disbelief, "Master Oleg?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Oleg rasped, "I received a report saying your crew was wiped out to the last man! I thought your group was the enemy!"

"What?" Dorf said incredulously, "Our patrols were killed, along with a daring charge that took our archer, but otherwise we were untouched. I did send a man back to report our losses and request reinforcements."

Oleg's blood seemed to grow cold for a moment as fear lanced through him, "You didn't happen to give him the passkey, did you?"

"Of course I gave him the black glove," Dorf said, "How else could he have made it through your guards without it?"

"Then what was his hair color?" Oleg asked trembling.

"Hair?" Dorf said, "I sent my son Jancront! And you know as well as I do that he's bald!"

A deep booming laughter from the rooftop chilled the heart of every Black Fang member.

* * *

Meanwhile, Le Raston was having difficulties of his own. A normal flyby over the houses of Badon and a lightning strike against the inn's defenders had been compounded by harassing pegasi riders and sniping archers. Oh, don't forget those pesky spell casters that shot two of his men out of the sky. All in all, he made it to the Leaping Leviathan with a mere three wyvern riders behind him. Le Raston could only lament on his foolish decision of not bringing more fighters with him to sack the enemy's headquarters. 

Greed and a lust for fame, however, propelled Le Raston forward. Ordering his men to dismount, Le Raston led his followers and charged into the inn. They were met by a furious innkeeper and her retinue of bouncers.

"All right, my measly landlubbers," the innkeeper said, "What do you want in my establishment?"

Le Raston swallowed nervously, "You have a pair of children with teal hair and red eyes. Where are they?"

The innkeeper huffed and placed her hands on her waist, "How dare you! No one, not even Jake or Fargus himself, comes into Anna's Leaping Leviathan and tries to take someone away by force! Ain't that right?" The group behind her roared their approval.

"You don't know who you're messing with," Le Raston said shakily, "We are the Black…"

"Black Fang, I know," Anna said derisively, "And certainly a cowardly lot to send armed soldiers to kidnap children. If any of you miserable scum come here again, I'll have Fargus and his crew give you a warm welcome. Now scram!"

Seeing he was outnumbered nearly five to one, there was little Le Raston could do except back out of the inn accompanied by the parting jeers of Anna's bouncers. The moment he stepped outside, he was greeted by the sight of four dead wyvern carcasses lying in front of him. Next to the pin cushioned wyverns, two archers, three spell casters and two pegasi riders were admiring their handiwork. The shaman, appearing to be the leader of this group, turned and looked at Le Raston.

"Last time I was here, someone from Badon asked me an interesting question," Canas sniffed, "I will repeat it for your benefit."

He took several long moments to polish his monocle before popping it back where it belonged and readying a spell tome.

"Medium rare or well done?"

As arrows, javelins and spells sped towards him, Le Raston cursed himself for not choosing a peaceful career.

* * *

If Oleg had any doubts concerning the reputed strength and legendary cunning of this battalion, he no longer harbored such thoughts. During their trek back to the base camp that Oleg had set up during the early phases of the battle, fully a dozen of his men fell behind him. Time and time again, he would round the street corner only to find a pair of cavaliers charging directly for them. The first time this had happened, Oleg had foolishly led his scant dozen or so men in a counterattack. The foolish chase had landed them straight into the teeth of enemy swords and axes. Half a dozen men fell around him as Oleg desperately tried to bring his troops out of the killing ring, with cavaliers hot on his heels. The enemy possessed a perfect command of the city, knowledgeable of every shortcut that would yield the advantage to him. 

Abruptly, another two cavaliers cut Oleg off from the ragged remnants of his command, sandwiching the hapless fighters between the heavy horses. As the slaughter raged behind him, Oleg tore his gaze away before sprinting as fast as he could for the walls of Badon. Not that fleeing would do him any good.

As he stumbled out of Badon's gates, the creaking gates informed Oleg that his night was not over. Whirling around, the gates closed with a bang, signaling that retreat was no longer an option.

"Greetings, Black Fang," a familiar voice drawled out.

Oleg turned around to find a certain red-haired mercenary looking at him, "You! You lied to me!"

The man shrugged, "Who said I was part of your army in the first place?"

"He was stupid enough to fall for it, right Raven?" A thief asked from the shadows, "Drake, Badon's secure!"

"Now all we have to deal with is the leader," said an armored knight that stepped out of the trees.

Exhausted that he was, Oleg put up quite a fight for his life against the combined might of Matthew, Raven, and Oswin. Swing his ax wildly, he bought himself a brief respite from Matthew and Raven's swords before bulling forward into Oswin. The armored knight stood his ground and gave as good as he got, lance and ax clashing furiously.

Biting back a scream of pain, Oleg felt a sharp sword bite deeply into his right leg. Backhanding Matthew with a furious punch, he knocked the thief out cold before plucking out the offending blade. However, the damage was done, and his mobility seriously reduced.

"I'll have to take all of you with me to hell!" Oleg screamed as he tackled Oswin off his feet.

Caught by surprise, Oswin fell flat on his back while Oleg jumped nimbly to his feet and raised his ax with both hands for the killing blow. Then Oleg had the misfortune to take his eyes off his target for one second and look forward. He never looked back down as fear lanced through him and Oleg found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the face that stood not a dozen feet away from him.

"C-C-Curse… o-of… Caledonia-a…" Oleg stammered in terror. Oswin's eyes widened at those words.

"Strike," the face said emotionlessly half a second before Raven's sword smote Oleg down.

"Hey, knight of Ostia," Raven barked, "Get up! I know you're not injured!"

Oswin's mind was far away from Badon as he thought back to the time ten years ago when he first heard the Cursed One of the West.

* * *

_"Marquis!" A messenger that Oswin admitted gasped out._

_"What is it?" Marquis Ostia commanded, "Speak!"_

_"The Subjugation War is over!" The man said in a hurry, "Etruria has won the Battle of Idina and the surviving pirate bands have been scattered to the four winds!"_

_"The war is not over if Draclaw, King of the Seas, is not taken or dead," Oswin noted, "If alive, he could rally the bandits again."_

_"It's just that! Draclaw has been slain!"_

_"What?" Marquis Ostia asked._

_"How?" Oswin asked, "Draclaw commanded three thousand pirates, not counting his bandit shock troops! He couldn't have been lured out to fight!"_

_"But he did! An Etrurian general uncovered Draclaw's family and held his sister hostage, sending word that she would be slain if Draclaw did not give battle."_

_"Foolish man," the marquis murmured, "The King of the Seas never exercised enough caution when his blood was aroused. Give me the details of the battle at once."_

_"Yes, milord," the man continued after taking a deep breath, "Draclaw led his entire army to Castle Idina, as the Etrurian general demanded. There, they found an Etrurian army waiting for them, with the general and the hostage awaiting their arrival."_

_"They would've had no chance," the marquis murmured, "To fight a battle on grounds not of their choosing and against superior forces. At least the fool managed to free his family."_

_"That's not exactly what happened, marquis," the messenger said, "Draclaw demanded that Etruria leave the Western Isles in peace, but the general merely shook his head and said, 'I hold your sister in my hand.' Draclaw paled and demanded her return as well, but the general let out a terrible laugh."_

_Oswin was struck by a terrible thought, "Surely, he didn't…"_

_The man sorrowfully replied, "You guessed correctly, Sir Oswin. 'I have no more need of her now that you have been lured into the open,' were the general's exact words. He speared her down with his lance right in front of Draclaw, who howled in grief. Maddened by the loss of his kin, Draclaw led a furious charge against the Etrurian host. Blinded by the wanton murder, the pirate bands followed, though the bandit vanguard hesitated briefly."_

_"A trap," the marquis muttered._

_"Yes, two Etrurian cavalry detachments broke cover and took the pirates in the rear, and…" the messenger gulped, "The slaughter began…"_

_"And what of that bastard, the general?" Marquis Ostia asked, "Surely such an dastardly man hid while his men did the dirty work for him!"_

_"Actually, I daresay otherwise, milord," the messenger said, "That inhuman monster's lance work was unrivaled, probably far superior to even yours, Sir Oswin. He hacked his way through the pirate lines,slew Draclaw in single combat, mounted Draclaw's head on a pike and placed it beside his standard. The pirate bands broke easily after that. No quarter, no surrender, the pirates were slain wherever they were found. For every five sea scum that entered the battle, I doubt even one is still alive. I suppose the bandits fared better, though the Etrurian cavalry is still after them."_

_"The general, does he have a name?" Oswin asked._

_The messenger gave Oswin a dark look, "Before the battle, maybe. Afterwards, pirate and peasant alike called him the Curse of Caledonia."

* * *

_

"Oswin!" Matthew shouted as loud as he could next to Oswin's head.

"Huh?" Oswin came around, blinking upwards at Serra and Matthew, "What is it?"

"What is it?" Serra screeched, "You've been walking around like a zombie every since Oleg fell. It took Bartre and Dorcas three tries to get you back on your feet. What happened to you?"

"Yeah, what happened after I was conked out?" Matthew asked, "I asked Drake and Raven, but they said nothing out of the ordinary."

"Nothing happened," Oswin affirmed, _I just never thought I would see that man with my own two eyes, trust him, and even fight alongside of him._

* * *

_If you hate me now, I will accept the flying tomato of protest. I will no accept flames, however. (lol) Thank you for being patient and reading, review if you have the time!_


	16. Of Lords and Loyalty

_Author's Corner:_

_Dagnabit, I lost my first draft for this chapter and was trying to piece together the same material from memory. Sorry for the lapse in updating._

_**DotDotDotMan **– Now I feel stupid… I suppose it is my fault for taking your words too seriously (lol). In regards to any changes in the history, you'll have to read on to find out!_

_**Mad-man **– Originally, I had not meant to throw in the Hector/Florina support, but then again I wanted to write about Huey flattening Hector again so… One thing led to another and the entire situation wouldn't have made sense without some sort of apology. Coincidentally, the A support happens to be an apology, so I thought, 'What the heck…'_

_**Phantom Kensai **– Point taken on Leila's death, but I am notorious for disliking following the game script and prefer to tinker around with as many situations as possible. Wow, I actually didn't notice the final dragon was a dark affinity. Thanks for the input, I will store that away for further use. In regards to Drake's composure… Yes, he should've freaked out, but then again I thought I'd be more appropriate to freak out when you're actually fighting the creature. I also hope to leave Legault in the spotlight a little more. For a character reputedly just under the Four Fangs, FE7 didn't assign him a very interesting role._

_**Missklutzzz** – Why, thank you!_

_**Dude **– You'll probably see that in the next chapter. Just a few more days after this one, I hope._

_**Paladin2007 **– Typically, the slaughtering of hostages is considered against the acts of chivalry. So 9/10 people who hear about it would say, 'Ewww, evil guy on the loose!' Last chapter only mentioned when Oswin 'first' heard the Curse, never said anything about what he heard after the war._

_**Tiger Dauthi **– (gets hit by a tomato and promptly eats it) Mmm, fresh tomato… Keep them coming, err, I mean… You know what I mean! Thanks for the review!_

_**Shadow Rave **– Explanations are good! Now the catch is that whether he lasts long enough to explain anything at all._

_**Lao Who Mai **– Hm… Announcer… Why didn't I get one of those? (mumbling to self) I'll probably be answering those questions in the near future anyways (lol)._

_**Samuraiter **– Wow, thanks for your review! I agree I still have a lot to work on, and it certainly helps to have someone prod me in the right direction. It's a somewhat humbling feeling when I read your review, but I LIKE to be humbled. (lol) Thanks!_

_**Phoenixfire1389 **– Thank you for your review!_

_**Dias of all Final **– Keep reading and you'll find out… (I think…)_

_**GM ace **– Thanks for your review!_

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 15**

**Of Lords and Loyalty**

_May 3rd, provincial boundary between Thria and Ostia,_

_Ostia, head of the Lycian council and arguably the strongest military power amongst the squabbling lords of Lycia. Legendary are the skills and fame of Ostian armored knights, of whom none could possibly match or surpass save the mighty wyvern knights of Bern. Though lacking in mobility, the steady, plodding forward push led by a triple rank phalanx of Ostian knights has scattered many a foe. It was largely due to this Tidebreaker formation that Ostia still retains its name as Lycia's most formidable army. Unfortunately, to many contemporary strategists of this age, the Tidebreaker is no longer adequate with the intervention of powerful magic and hefty flying units. Still, I personally have yet to see the routine fail against a charge of heavy horse or infantry. _

"Lord Uther said he'd meet us there?" Eliwood asked as he gestured towards the Ostian fortress overlooking the dirt road.

"We'll probably beat him there," Hector said, "My brother, though famous for making quick decisions, is infamous for taking his sweet time getting from one place to another."

"That must run in the family," Lyn said dryly.

Hector scowled, "Anyways, my brother will arrive in secrecy to avoid prying ears. In that case, we will probably see him around evening, where most of the courtiers have retired for the night."

"Leaving Castle Ostia in secrecy?" Cecilia commented, "I once had my doubt concerning whether the two of you could be siblings, but now I'm convinced."

Eliwood cracked a small grin at his friend's expense while Hector's scowl turned even darker, "Sometimes, Eliwood, I honestly wished that Drake was my advisor instead of this wannabe."

"Hey, I resent that!"

"Wannabe."

"Grr…"

"Speaking of which," Lyn asked, "Where is Drake?"

"I saw Drake speaking with Matthew and Legault earlier," Nils said with a yawn, "Not sure if he still is though."

"Perimeter scouting shows no sign of hostile forces in our immediate vicinity," Drake's voice caused them all to jump slightly, "Fiora and Florina have cleared the skies and found nothing while ranging parties have seen nothing within a two candle mark traveling distance. Until otherwise noted, we are theoretically safe."

"You're kidding me," Hector said, "We actually get to sleep soundly in our beds tonight?"

"Not that we had beds while on the march," Cecilia observed.

"I think I'm a bad influence on you, Cecilia. I could've sworn sarcasm was a trait I didn't pass on," Drake replied with a grin, "Oh, and by the way Lord Eliwood, someone from Pherae requests your audience immediately."

Eliwood paled slightly, "From Pherae? Surely, Mother didn't…"

"Pardon me, milord," Marcus coughed, "I took the discretion to inform Lady Eleanora of Lord Elbert's condition. During your time of mourning, I felt it wise that she be notified as soon as possible."

"You've done nothing wrong, Marcus," Eliwood replied, "Who is the messenger?"

"A certain Lady Isadora?" Drake asked, looking towards Legault for confirmation, "Does that name ring a bell?"

Eliwood glanced up sharply, but relaxed when he saw Drake's composure, "I'll see her inside the fortress."

As they entered the fortress gates, a soldier approached Oswin with a slip of paper. Oswin regarded the main with a raised eyebrow, but then took the message and read it. Without batting an eyelid, Oswin turned to look at Drake.

"Sir Drake," Oswin rumbled, "I wish to speak with you, in private."

"As you wish," Drake replied.

"Wait, Drake," Cecilia interrupted, "The defenses…"

Drake thought for a moment, then scribbled something down on a leaf in his journal. Tearing out the page, he handed the slip to Cecilia, "Follow these instructions and rest easy." Cecilia glanced at the paper, and then took off with Dorcas and Bartre in tow.

"Please follow me," Oswin said, pointing towards a corridor that led them away from the army.

Boots clomping along the stone floor, Drake and Oswin made their way through the dungeons of the fortress. Passing into one of the cells, Oswin turned a cunningly hidden handle concealed beneath one of the bunks that revealed another hidden passage. Damp and cluttered with cobwebs, the pair fought their way through the suffocating mess to find themselves halting before a giant stone door. Oswin fished into his armor for a moment before pulling out a rusty relic of a key. After another moment of awkward fumbling, Oswin pit his formidable strength against the stone slab, slowly easing enough space for the two of them to squeak by.

What awaited them beyond the granite door was a well-furnished room complete with torches blazing merrily, basking the entire room in a soft glow. To their left, a roaring fireplace well supplied with logs kept away the encroaching moisture and cold. In front of them was a massive circular table with several seats emblazoned with gold letters. Here, the secret meeting room of generations upon generations of Ostian lords, where life and death decisions were made, where treaties and betrayal ran rampant.

"I trust the accommodations are to your liking?"

"But of course," Drake said as he strode forward, "I believe I have the honor of addressing Lord Uther of Ostia? You were not expected until this evening, milord."

A tall, scarred man arose from his seat on the opposite end of the table, "Well met, Drake of Etruria. I arrived earlier in order to speak with select members of my brother's party. Please, be seated so that we may speak on equal terms."

Oswin assumed his position behind his liege while Drake scanned the names upon the various sieges before him. Choosing one, he smirked before settling down and turning his full attention upon Uther, "What would you like to speak of?"

"First of all," Uther began, "I must extend my gratitude towards your formidable skills. From what Oswin and, to a lesser extent, Leila reported, my brother and his companions could scarcely have survived without your guidance."

"Flattered," Drake replied, "I merely offered a little advice that coincidentally happened to be most advantageous to the situation at hand. There is no skill in luck, milord."

"Perhaps in a few small skirmishes, luck would be appropriate," Uther replied, "Then again, I believe Caelin, Laus, and Valor can testify that you are not a firm believer in luck."

"The goddess of fortune bestows her smile on whim," Drake said thoughtfully, before fixing Uther with a piercing stare, "Let's stop beating around the bush, milord. What is it that you truly wished to speak with me about?"

Uther scrutinized Drake's face for a long moment before asking, "How fares your friend, the Hammer?"

* * *

"Have you found our targets, Heath?" 

The wyvern knight dismounted from his fearsome steed, his green hair fluttering in the wind while the sunlight gently caught the silver streak. Nodding respectfully to his commander, Heath cleared his throat.

"Yes, Commander Eubans. They're holed up roughly half a days ride ahead of us in an Ostian fortress."

Eubans smiled wolfishly, "Good, we will be able to take them unawares by nightfall."

Heath was aghast, "Commander? Surely you aren't serious about making war upon women and children?"

"We are mercenaries," Eubans replied, "We do whatever it takes for the highest coin. Ever since that fool Darin self-destructed at the Battle of Laus, our company is being hunted down. The head of Eliwood will buy us passage into the Black Fang."

"I cannot do this!" Heath protested, "What you are suggesting is below the chivalry demanded by a knight's honor!"

Honor was a precious commodity in the troubled times that enshrouded Elibe. Barring the ever dependable but oh-so-pricey Ilian flying fleets, the average mercenary brigade was a harsh mix of cutthroats, murderers, thieves, and men who had nothing to lose. Eubans had come from such a background, scratching a living off the meager soil as a farmer before bandits torched his home. Left with nothing but the clothes on his back, he had stumbled his way into a traveling troop of sell swords. Thanks to his ponderous strength with a lance, Eubans found himself climbing up the ranks until he landed himself the command of a mercenary outfit of his own. Yet the experiences from his youth had traumatized the man, turning a once cheerful farmer into a merciless soldier who took no pity on the ill or defenseless. Needless to say, the majority of his mercenary band shared his merciless streak as well.

Heath, however, was no immoral warrior prone to forget his vows, even if his duty was to a country that tarnished his name and honor. As a knight, Heath had once been ordered to eradicate a defenseless village under the pretext that the villagers were rebels. Defying the callous order from his corrupt commander, Heath chose to abandon the Bern Army instead of burying his humanity. Hunted as a deserter, he sought refuge under the flag of a mercenary, however distressing some of his tasks may be. It was a well-known fact that Eubans and Heath argued vehemently over proper conduct in battle, and a once profitable relationship quickly turned sour.

Eubans' scowl turned dark, "Heath, you will follow your commander's orders. Is that understood?"

Heath flinched, "It is my duty to remind you of your humanity, commander."

"Let me worry about my own sanity," Eubans spat, "You worry about the battle and the money."

Heath saluted stiffly as Eubans turned his steed away, "Yes, commander."

"Self-righteous idiot," Eubans muttered to himself, "It's a wonder he's still alive."

Heath stood his ground a little longer before turning back to Hyperion, "Well buddy, what do you think?"

The wyvern regarded him for a second before snorting and blowing its nose.

"Glad you share my sentiments," Heath said with a grin, "Come on, boy, let's get out of here!"

* * *

"The Hammer of Terrascars?" Drake asked, "He wasn't really a friend, more of a compatriot who got the job done when it needed to be done." 

"Still," Uther pointed out, "I've heard rumors that the Curse of Caledonia and the Hammer of Terrascars worked together during the Terrascar campaign."

"That part is true," Drake admitted while Uther and Oswin exchanged a glance, "Cruelty upon cruelty piles when mad minds join together. Yet why do you need to know this?"

"I am loath to admit this," Uther ventured, "But currently I have little choice but to put the lives of my brother and his friends in the hands of a murderer."

"And in doing so, you'd like to understand the mind of this psychotic fiend, correct?"

"I'd like to know if you are trustworthy."

Drake laughed, "You know very well that I have more blood on my hands than perhaps anyone else alive, and you wish to know if I'm trustworthy?"

"Are you willing to tell me?" Uther asked.

"I warrant that any information you currently have regarding me is hazy at best," Drake thought aloud, "Let me elaborate on my past a little, so that you may judge yourself."

"Fair enough," Uther said.

"One condition," Drake held up a hand, "What is said behind these closed doors shall remain behind these doors unless I choose to reveal it myself."

"Afraid of retribution?" Oswin asked.

Drake fixed Oswin with a look that fairly chilled the knight's heart, and then his eyes resumed their normal placidity, "Perhaps, Oswin, perhaps. What would you like to know first, Uther of Ostia?"

"Tell me the truth behind the Terrascar campaign," Uther said, "The vile tales of the Curse of Caledonia are infamously exaggerated, but the secrets of the Terrascar campaigns were never brought to light, no matter how deeply my spies delve."

Oswin frowned, "The Terrascar campaign was nothing compared to the slaughter inflicted upon the Western Isles."

"It'd be quite close," Drake said, "I wager you already know about Draclaw and his dead pirates along with the Purge of Idina?

Uther's expression was grim, "Where you purged half the city hunting for brigands and pirate survivors?"

"The very one," Drake replied, "Unfortunately, at the time of the Battle of Idina, a considerable amount of the city was firmly in support of the pirates. The sea scum came to Caledonia long before Etruria did, and was quite entrenched after decades of mingling. Though quite a few were innocent during the Purge, I daresay that the majority of them were guilty."

"Fitting words for the Cursed One," Oswin muttered, "So what do you mean 'it'd be quite close?'"

"Because the families of the Terrascar members were put to the sword," Uther guessed.

Oswin gaped in disbelief, but Drake nodded his agreement, "Very good, Lord Uther. The Terrascars could well neigh have sparked a revolution in Etruria, and thus forcing the nobility to unleash the army upon them. Fleeing in haste, the Terrascar members, young and old, fled from the coming soldiers, but many left their families behind, thinking the innocents would be safe. However, worried that the inflammatory organization had spread its dissidence to their surviving family, anyone connected to the Terrascars were publicly executed."

Uther stared in disbelief, "Publicly…?"

"Yes," Drake said, "As a warning to all those that may potentially disrupt the king's peace."

"So who was responsible for the slaughter?" Uther asked, "You, or the Hammer himself?"

"By and by, I believe that both were responsible," Drake shrugged, "Either of us would've ordered it, and neither of us would've balked at carrying out such an order."

Uther was struck by the profound calmness Drake said those words. _By the gods, what kind of a monster can handle men's lives as carelessly as nail clippings? And such a person has been soldiering and guiding my brother and his friends thus far?_ One glance at Oswin and Uther could tell the knight was thinking the same thing. _And how the bloody hell is that man smiling through all this?_

Drake's slight smirk didn't diminish in the slightest at the gaze of Marquis Ostia and his trusted vassal, _Almost there, so close, yet so far…_

And Uther's next words coined it, "Drake of Etruria, you are too much of a maverick in this delicate game of death. I will not suffer my brother and his friends to reach an untimely end due to your madness. Consider yourself relieved of your duties toward their army, for from this moment onwards, you will no longer be traveling with them."

_Mission complete and I'm free to go, _Drake thought, "So you have no objections to my immediate departure, do you?"

"Quite the contrary," Uther replied, "The Curse of Caledonia is too much of a threat to be allowed complete freedom in Elibe. So you will be confined here as our guest until Hector and his friends leave."

"Lord Uther?" Oswin asked, "You're letting him go afterwards, aren't you?"

"No, I'm going to have him killed, of course," Uther said calmly, ignoring Oswin's shocked look, "Take him away, Oswin."

After Oswin and Drake exited the room, Uther found himself staring at the seat that Drake had vacated. _Why the devil did that man choose the seat of an Etrurian nobleman? I have never heard of the Curse of Caledonia being part of the nobility!_

_

* * *

_  
Heath almost fell off Hyperion when an arrow flew not two feet away from his face. Wheeling to the left, Heath directed Hyperion in a barrel roll into the clouds before diving straight down for an awkward landing. Waiting patiently, Heath dismounted and stabbed his lance into the ground as he saw a trio of horsemen approach him.

"You aren't very friendly towards those who venture into your airspace, are you?"

"Not every day we see wyvern riders in Lycia," one of the horsemen quipped.

Heath grinned at that, "Who's in command here? I need to speak with him immediately."

The two horsemen exchanged a glance before looking back towards the nomad behind them, "Sir?"

The nomad eased his horse forward but didn't dismount, "I am Rath, what is your business, rider of the skies?"

"Are you part of the garrison at yonder Ostian fortress?" Heath gestured.

Rath did not reply, but merely nodded.

"Listen," Heath said, "There will be a raid on that fortress tonight led by mercenary bands that once served Laus. Fully four score men, armed and ready for a brawl will come knocking on your gates scarcely past midnight."

"Four score?" One horseman gasped, "Castle Dentrass is understaffed right now, we scarcely have a dozen men on duty, not counting the warriors the foreign lords brought!"

His companion winced before slapping the outspoken man on the back of the head, "Just scream it out for the whole world to hear, why don't you?"

Rath cleared his throat, "Come, we're wasting time here."

Wheeling his light Sacaen steed, Rath was off like an arrow. Heath mounted Hyperion and took off in pursuit while the other two were still collecting their wits. _Funny, _Heath thought, _I find myself betraying every group that I throw my lot with in the name of honor, yet what honor is reflected upon a deserter?_

"I don't believe you identified yourself," Rath said, "I am Rath of the Kutolah."

"Heath, one-time knight of Bern," Heath replied.

* * *

"Milords, Lady Lyndis," a soldier reported, "Lord Uther wishes to see you at once." 

"Already?" Hector asked, "He's early, and that's never a good thing."

"And why is that?" Lyn asked.

"Because whenever Lord Uther is here early, he always has a scathing lecture for Hector," Eliwood laughed.

"Why, you…" Hector growled in mock anger, "Get over here!"

"Mercy! I beg of thee!" The three friends shared a laugh as they entered the throne room to find Lord Uther waiting for them.

"Hector," Lord Uther greeted, "You're still alive? I'm rather surprised due to your lack of correspondence."

"I usually don't keep in touch on the journey, do I?" Hector asked.

"Hm…" Uther thought for a second, "That's true as well. If I _had _got a letter from you, then I'd be sure you _were_ dead."

Hector grinned, "You haven't changed at all."

Uther matched his brother's smile, "And neither have you. So tell me, what have the three of you been up to, dragging yourselves across Lycia and all the way to Valor?"

"What do you know so far?" Eliwood asked.

"Only what Leila has reported to me," Uther replied.

"Then I'm afraid we have grave matters to report," Eliwood began, but was interrupted by a loud knocking clamor.

Bursting through the double doors came Rath, Heath, and Cecilia. Brushing off the guards' attempts to bar their entrance, the trio advanced to where the lords were holding counsel. Rath was about to make a report when he and Lyn got a good look at one another. He had been on a long-range patrol since two days ago, and, as chance would have it, completely missed the arrival of Eliwood's party.

"Lyn?" Rath said in confusion, "What are you doing here?"

Lyn was flabbergasted herself, "I could say the same to you, Rath."

"Anyways," Cecilia said, maneuvering the conversation back on topic, "We received word half a candle mark ago from Heath that there is a mercenary division headed for our position. Preliminary headcount suggests that they outnumber us two to one. However, that is only if we include the exhausted members of Lord Eliwood's group."

"They can't breach the fortress that easily as long as we close the gates," Uther said with a frown.

"Won't work," Heath interrupted, "I am Heath, and I have fought with those mercenaries before. The mercenary group has a full squadron of wyvern riders. They'll be able to clear the walls while the primary group smashes the main gates."

"To the cut the long story short, we're screwed," Hector growled.

"Cecilia," Lyn said, "If we were forced to give battle, what chance do we stand of winning?"

Cecilia thought for a moment then grimaced, "We have a fifty-fifty chance of winning, but victory would undoubtedly cost us the lives of half our group. After our recent skirmishes in Valor and Badon, the army still hasn't sufficiently rested long enough to fight at full capacity. At best, we will have sluggish soldiers, and at worst, we'd have walking targets that can barely defend themselves. Not counting the sorry condition of our equipment, I daresay that to give battle would be folly."

"Well, time to pull out the trump card then," Eliwood said.

"Trump card?" Uther asked.

"Drake," Eliwood replied, "He's pulled through for us before, and he can do so again."

"True, but where is that guy?" Hector asked, "I haven't seen him since he took off with Oswin."

Uther hesitated for a brief moment before asking, "You seem to trust your tactician very much."

"With our lives," Lyn said, "Father Sky knows how far we'd have struggled without him."

"Yet you have a capable leader in Cecilia as well," Uther pointed out.

Cecilia shook her head, "I have learned much from Drake, milord, and I am ashamed to say that compared to him I am but a novice. I can lead a normal battle with even odds on a level playing field just as well as anyone else, but I'm not a genius who can pull off an impossible victory like Drake. However…"

"What is it?"

"I never said Drake didn't leave a trump card behind for us to use," Cecilia said smugly.

"And you tell us now?" Hector asked incredulously.

"You never asked," Cecilia responded before gesturing towards Heath, "Now pay close attention, Drake wrote that…"

* * *

The sun was setting by the time Eubans led his ragtag mercenary force to the gates of Castle Dentrass. Dentrass, though once a formidable obstacle in the eons when strife dominated Lycia, has recently been outclassed by many of the newer castles constructed throughout Elibe. Since it overlooked the friendly boundary between Thria and Ostia, the various ruling Ostian lords had found little reason to buffer the fortifications. As such, an understaffed Castle Dentrass should be an easy conquest for Eubans and his seasoned mercenaries. 

"Commander Eubans," a scout reported in, "You're not going to believe this."

"What is it?" Eubans snorted, "There are only a couple dozen idiots inside. They can't handle our wyvern charge."

"Sir, three of our wyverns were shot down by a ballista."

"Say what?" Eubans asked, "So why didn't they destroy the ballista?"

The scout gulped, "Because Castle Dentrass is crewed with far more than just several dozen soldiers, sir."

"What?" Eubans roared, "Heath reported that they barely topped thirty exhausted soldiers yesterday!"

"But… Heath isn't with us any more, is he?"

"Show me the fortress," Eubans growled, "Let me see with my own eyes…"

The pair made their way roughly two hundred yards away from Castle Dentrass. Yet even from that range, the numbers on the castle walls were much more numerous than a scant thirty. Every couple feet, a fully armored man-at-arms stood ready with a bow in hand. Atop the keep, two ballista platforms were erect, surrounded by a ring of troops. Halfway between Eubans and the castle, the carcasses of three wyverns and their respective riders lay stretched out on the plains leading to the castle, speared through by gigantic ballista bolts.

"We'd be massacred if we charged that," Eubans muttered, "With that many archers, they'd rain arrows on us until we have nobody left."

A furious twang was heard and a black bolt screamed through the skies. With a terrible screech, another wyvern crashed into the trees shortly behind Eubans and his companion. Overhead, the remaining wyverns hesitated when they saw pegasi knights scrambling to take to the skies. Aerial combat with ballista bolts searing through the skies was definitely not a very friendly environment. With an oath, the acting commander wheeled around, taking the remains of his squadron back towards camp.

Someone on the battlements must've picked out Eubans and his scout, as the main gates opened with a groan. Nearly half a dozen mounted warriors urged their thunderous steeds out of the overarching gateways and hurtled towards Eubans with weapons bared. Estimating from their speed of approach, they'd be in a javelin's throwing range within minutes.

"That damnable Heath," Eubans said, "He must've warned the guards of our arrival. Go, tell the men to strike camp, we're leaving for Bern."

The scout nodded his confirmation before wheeling his steed and taking off. Eubans looked for a few seconds longer before mounting his horse and prepared to follow when a javelin flew through the air and smote his horse in the chest.

_The hell? They couldn't have gotten here that quickly! _Spilling out of the saddle in a hurry, Eubans picked up his lance before glancing his stricken beast out of the corner of his eye. Behind him, a ring of five cavaliers quickly moved to encircle him while a familiar face walked out of the forests.

"Heath!"

"The one and only," Heath replied, holding another javelin, "My apologies for your horse, but Cecilia wished for you to be detained."

"Me? Surrender?' Eubans laughed, "I live and breathe the winds of war! I will not be taken alive!"

The elder cavalier frowned, "So be it."

Eubans stood his ground defiantly, holding his lance in his left arm while drawing a sword with his right. Around him, the mounted warriors moved in for the kill.

* * *

Cecilia and the lords watched the scene from afar besides the soldiers on the wall. With their torsos covered in armored plates, bows tied to their arms and their lower half obscured by the battlements, no one could tell from afar that these straw figurines were not live men. The only enemies capable of identifying the difference would've been an up close aerial inspection, which was prudently denied to the wyvern riders by Rebecca and Wil on the ballista. Ahead of them, five lances speared Eubans down while Heath watched in glum silence. 

"So your ploy worked again," Uther replied.

"It wasn't my ploy in the first place," Cecilia said, gesturing towards the fallen Eubans, "Drake said that this plan could only work once, since a competent enemy would be able to identify our fake soldiers. That is a different story altogether with Eubans dead."

"What are your future plans?"

"Ninian and Nils detected Nergal's presence to the east," Eliwood replied, "So that makes our destination Bern."

"Bern," Uther said with a grimace, "Bern has recently been on the warpath, mobilizing far too many troops along the border. If this Nergal moves Bern to war, all of Elibe may suffer for it."

"Which is why he must be stopped, once and for all," Lyn replied.

"Then go," Uther said, "But first head to Nataba and seek out the living legend."

"Nataba?" Hector asked, "Why the opposite direction?"

"You'll see when you meet him," Uther answered, "Now go, tarry no longer."

When the lords and Cecilia left the battlements, Drake emerged from one of the guard towers with Oswin behind him.

"I still don't trust you," Uther started.

"You'd have made a poor ruler if you did," Drake replied.

Uther growled, "However, I must admit there is no one else I can entrust this task to."

"I confess that I had honestly hoped you'd have found a replacement."

"Oh, how so?"

Drake sighed, "You think I _like _walking the road of war? No mortal being can live out the rest of days and not regret the deaths he or she caused. Believe it or not, the blood on my hands weigh on me more than you think. There are many times that I wish I could simply end it all with a sword stroke."

"Then do you keep going?" Uther asked.

"To repair the harm I caused in my youth," Drake answered without hesitation, "To bring peace to the yawning jaws of darkness, and to bring judgment upon those who elude the hand of justice."

"Including yourself?"

"Especially myself."

"Milord," Oswin interposed, "Lord Hector and his friends are preparing to leave the castle. They'll be stopping by Ostia on their way to replenish their supplies."

"See to it that several 'donations' be made by the Ostia treasury towards their cause," Uther added.

Oswin grinned, "We'll be in sore need of it. I'll see you later, Drake."

As Oswin stomped out of earshot, Drake glanced briefly at Uther, "How long will you keep your condition from your vassals and brother?"

"Feh, I didn't expect to be able to hide it from your eyes," Uther said, "If I reveal my hardship, Hector may stray from the path he is choosing now. Please keep this between the two of us."

"If you can keep what happened in the dungeons a secret."

"You have a bargain."

* * *

_There, almost on the doorstep of Nataba! For those of you who are still interested in the full history of Drake, this show isn't over yet! Thank you for reading and please review!_


	17. Hammer of Terrascars

_Author's Corner:_

_I've been waiting to write this chapter throughout the entire fiction, so I hope I don't disappoint anyone!_

_**Calas **– Thank you for your review!_

_**Phantom Kensai **– We all connect with our evil sides some time or another, Kensai-san. I'm glad you liked the Badon activity, and I too was one that wanted someone to slap Eliwood (hence why I put it in). Uther is, in my opinion, another underappreciated character in FE7. He pretty much ran all of Lycia and kept tabs on Hector throughout his journey as best he could. In regards to Eubans, I never got to turn 11 since I killed him on like turn 7…_

_Cookie to you for beating FE6, you'll probably recognize a few elements here and there._

_**GM ace** – I must say that lease on life will be cut short pretty soon._

_**AuthorOfthedark (x2) **– Thank you for your reviews!_

_**DotDotDotMan **– Originally, I was saving the Curse of Caledonia for a, somewhat probable, sequel novelization of FE6. I'm still toying with that idea in my head right now, so we'll have to see. I'll explain the connection between Drake and the Hammer in a few moments._

_**Shadow Rave **– Ingenuity is 1 part brains and 99 parts insanity. I'm glad you like Drake's personality._

_**misSkLutzZz** – The last chapter may seem a bit confusing, but everything will make sense in a few chapters._

_**Dias of All Final **– You're partially correct, but I must remind you of one tiny spoiler… Never mind, just read and you'll understand. I made a promise not to reveal any spoilers or give out hints._

_**Tiger Dauthi **– Thanks, I hope I don't disappoint!_

_**Phoenixfire1389** – Thanks for your review!_

_**Paladin2007** – Oh, nice catch on the Nabata part. I always misspell the name into 'Nataba…' I'm probably going to cut back a slight bit on the Pent-owning-entire-enemy-army-thing, since that kind of derails the story a tiny bit. (OK, we love watching slaughters, but writing about it isn't as fun.) In my game, I rescued the blasted fool so my army would gain a little experience. (lol)_

_**Dude **– I'm trying to update as fast as I can! (lol) Be patient! (I know it's hard.)_

_And yes, the title is cliché. I know already, so don't bother telling me!_

* * *

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 16**

**Hammer of Terrascars**

_May 17th, 3 days march into Missur,_

_I can't believe my ink hasn't dried yet! I fully expected to be left with no writing utensils less than a day into this stifling heat. Sometimes I even harbor the thought, which is shared by much of the army, that Lord Uther sent us all to our deaths in this Elimine-forsaken wasteland. Who the bloody hell would voluntarily chose to live in this goddamn place? Our water supplies have become a serious issue yesterday evening, since our pace has been reduced to a mere crawl. This is largely due to that horses do not travel well in these sandpits, limiting our ranging parties to the skies. In fear of the large bandit crews that infest Nabata, Cecilia and I have restricted the flight range to avoid costly ambushes. Currently, Cecilia and I have split the command into two columns, in order to facilitate the search for water. I daresay, and this opinion is shared by many in the party, that if we do not find water on the morrow, we shall be burying corpses in this desert._

"It is too hot!" Nils wailed, his voice muffled by his scarf as he sat atop Hector's shoulders.

"Hey, you think it's unbearable, try some of this armor," Hector growled to the extra burden above, "Chain mail is definitely not a good thing in this sand filled wasteland."

"It'll probably keep you alive," Lyn observed.

"That's true," Cecilia agreed, "Knowing you, Lord Hector, you'd prefer to charge straight into the teeth of the enemy weapons. How many times has that suit of armor saved you? Something like two dozen?"

"More like two hundred."

"Shaddup."

"Heath's returning," Canas informed as he tugged down his collar, "From his expression, I don't think he's found anything promising to the north."

"He's completely right," Heath dismounted with a groan and a wince, "Nothing but sand for miles around."

"Nothing helpful in the south either," Fiora said glumly as she tried to clean the sand from her hair.

Eliwood ran a tongue over his dry lips, "Then we better hope Florina found something," he croaked.

"The Black Fang has little to no information regarding Missur," Legault said, "I'm afraid I can't help you very much in this place."

"Florina," Ninian said, pointing to the western skies.

Florina shot out of a sandstorm barely maintaining her seat on Huey. However, when she landed, Florina's face was radiant.

"Water," she gasped, "Beyond the sandstorm. An oasis!"

"Great," Hector said grimly, "Water, but we have to brave that whirlwind without getting sidetracked."

"We don't have a choice," Lyn reminded him.

"Although that's true, Drake did specifically warn us not to endanger ourselves in a sandstorm," Cecilia noted, "Remember what he said?"

"A fierce cyclone of sand can physically shred your skin," Eliwood recalled, "Those on foot will have to cover as much skin as possible." Upon saying this, Eliwood shrugged off his cloak and gave the fabric to Ninian.

"Lord Eliwood…" she started but was cut off by Eliwood.

"I'll be fine," he smiled, "You on the other hand…"

Cecilia bit her lip, then made her decision, "Alright, listen up. Heath, you head back to the main column and inform them of the oasis' location. Florina and Fiora, take Nils and Lyn over the storm, since they have the least protection. Legault, you have the best eyesight out of all of us, so you'll take lead. Let's move out!"

* * *

"Whew, I never thought digging through sand would be so much work," a pale haired man breathed raggedly as he leaned heavily upon his spade, "Though I'm sure Fa meant well, I should've considered more carefully before asking for her advice." 

"She is rarely wrong," someone said behind him.

"True, Hawkeye," the man replied, "But she is still a child…"

"A child in appearance."

"A child in mindset as well," the man corrected, "Did Lord Athos say anything about our visitors?"

"Yes, I'll be leaving shortly and direct them to Arcadia."

"Couldn't you at least help me dig for that illusive artifact first? You know that I prefer reading rather than manual labor."

Hawkeye grinned slightly, "You could use the workout, _Lord_ Pent."

Pent smiled but couldn't help but mutter at Hawkeye's retreating form, "I suppose I could, but couldn't he have helped me anyways?" His spade resumed digging through the shifting sands until he heard an audible clinking sound.

Dropping the shovel, Pent knelt down and clawed the remaining layer of sand away to reveal an age worn chest. Generations buried under the burning sun had weakened the once solid lock, and Pent had no troubles opening such a relic. His search was curtailed as the soft rustling of sand reached his ears.

"Is that you, Hawkeye?" Pent asked without turning around.

"Oh, look, Jasmine," a foreign voice said, "This one found the treasure for us!"

"Yeah, Paul, too bad he spent all that time for us!"

Pent grinned wryly as he turned around while fingering the Elfire tome underneath his robes, "I don't suppose I could persuade you into letting me go?" What greeted his eyes were roughly twenty bandits armed with axes with their two leaders in the rear.

"If you left the treasure," one of the grunts said, "We may con…"

The man never finished as Pent turned the offending man into a crisp side of bacon, "I spent considerable time obtaining this artifact, and I shall not part with it easily!"

"Kill him," Paul said calmly.

Before the men could pounce, Pent had already hurtled another Elfire spell into their midst, frying one and injuring another. Pent held a flaming ball in either hand as he gazed at the bandits with a challenging glance.

"He… He's holding a spell in either hand!" Jasmine said with amazement.

"Well," Pent said softly, "Certainly one to state the obvious, aren't you?"

"Get him, boys!"

Pent glared as the sand around him, minus the treasure chest of course, burst into flames.

"Come, curs," Pent said steely, "Grovel before the wrath of Etruria!"

* * *

"I know that's not a natural phenomenon," Heath remarked as he landed besides the oasis, "Flashes of fire spells several miles west from here." 

"We saw them as well," Cecilia said, "I sent Fiora on a flyby to distinguish what the situation is, and she should be back shortly. How long will it take Drake and the others to arrive?"

"A candle mark or two," Heath replied, "Upon hearing of the sandstorm headed east, Drake rerouted the army and led them north towards the rock crags. There, they'll follow the fault line a little longer before swinging south to meet up with us."

"Hoping that the sandstorm will bypass them completely," Cecilia affirmed, "While they are at it…"

"Fiora returning," Legault shouted while he shielded his eyes.

Fiora dismounted and nodded towards Cecilia, "There is a lone man in the west fighting off dozens of bandits. When I left, he was holding his own, but I do not know for how much longer."

"A single person fighting off a horde of bandits?" Hector asked incredulously, "What are we waiting for? There's a fight going on!"

"Err…" Lyn started.

"Lyn, don't tell me you're going to let an innocent man die to the hands of those filthy beasts," Hector leveled a look at Lyn.

Lyn gritted her teeth, evidently riled, "Of course not, let's get going!"

"Hey, wait a moment!" Eliwood shouted uselessly as his two friends peeled off for the battle.

Nils shook his head, "Where do they get so much energy?"

"Hey, what's going on over there?"

Cecilia and Eliwood turned to see Raven, Guy, Dart, and Wil running towards them. "Just in time," Cecilia said, "Reinforcements from Drake?" Dart didn't even answer, instead choosing to dive straight into the pool, followed quickly by Wil. _Pirates, can't live with them, probably can live without him._

Guy looked apologetic, "To be honest, Wil and Dart were too impatient to wait for the rest of the baggage train and insisted on moving here first. Afraid of mishap, Drake sent Raven and me to make sure they didn't do anything stupid."

"Too late for that," Raven remarked, gesturing his thumb at Dart, who was busy swimming through the life-giving water.

Cecilia made a face, "Ew, doesn't the rest of the army need to _drink_ that?"

Raven raised an eyebrow, "What they don't know, won't hurt them."

"I sincerely doubt that," Canas said, "If any of the less hardy members of our war party drink that and faint; I'll say you were responsible."

Raven thought back to a certain red-haired troubadour who was dying of thirst and grimaced, "I'll offer Dart's head as an apology."

"Enough with the chitchat," Cecilia interrupted, "Hector and Lyn, Elimine have mercy on their souls, have trudged off to brawl to their little hearts' content. Unfortunately, we do need them to stay alive! You all know what that calls for?"

"To keep them from doing anything stupid," everyone else answered simultaneously. Cecilia quirked an eyebrow, _That's by far too late, since I do swear this army does stupid things all the time._

"Get Wil and Dart out of the water before someone sees them," Cecilia ordered, "We are staying here to make sure Nils and Ninian are safe. Lord Eliwood, Canas, Legault, Guy, and the fliers will aid Lord Hector and Lady Lyndis. And I said someone get Dart and Wil out of the water, not join them!"

"Hey, he pulled me in!"

"No, I didn't!"

"You foreigners get more interesting every time."

A tall berserker strode into the clearing, his gigantic ax held lightly over his left shoulder. He paused before the oasis and looked at the gaping crowd, "What?"

"Uh, who are you?" Cecilia asked.

"I am Hawkeye, Guardian of the Desert, and I believe you need help."

_More than you can imagine, _Cecilia thought.

* * *

Caught snugly between multiple sand dunes save for one entrance, the fierce battle took a brief pause, as if to accommodate the besieged one a few seconds of peace. Panting hoarsely from effort, Pent discarded his useless Elfire tome and yanked out another. Around him, fully a dozen bandits were cooked to perfection, but the remainder still stayed gamely on task. Apparently, their fear of Jasmine and Paul outweighed their fear for him, which only meant that Pent was forced to finish every last one of them, leaving him utterly exhausted and without a chance of defeating the two leaders. Behind him lay a chest filled with rare tomes that were long forgotten through the passage of time, chronicles that date back to perhaps even the Scouring. The leaflets inside were old and fragile, but any connoisseur could see the immeasurable value inside. 

Either the bandits were also experts on ancient history, or they were simply deluding themselves into thinking that he had unearthed a priceless jewel or sword. Spread out in a semicircle, another dozen or so ax-wielding brigands moved in for the kill. They knew as well as he did that Pent would probably roast half of them before he was simply overwhelmed by numbers. Early on, the sheer number of enemies had become a hassle for the bandits, since they had to jostle one another in the tight confines between the sand dunes. Cashing in on the opportunity, Pent had flung spell after spell into the crowd, scoring innumerous kills and injuring many more. However, now that the ranks have been thinned, it also allowed the bandits more room to maneuver, sometimes coming after Pent two or three at a time. Now, with a full encroaching semicircle around him, there were simply too many for Pent to deal with.

The subtle drawing of a bowstring behind Pent warned him that there was no retreat either. A sneaky brigand took his time circumventing the sand dunes around Pent and had managed to get upon the dune directly behind him. Earlier, a foolhardy archer had arrogantly meandered atop the sand dunes to the right and was rewarded with a barrage of Elfire spells that charred the man to ashes. Learning quickly that discretion was the better part of valor, this sniper had taken his time, obscuring himself from sight by taking a far longer path.

_I'm so sorry, Louise, _Pent thought bitterly, _if only I had listened to your warning._

The bow gave a twang, but no arrow flew into Pent's back. Confused, Pent stared ahead at the bandits around him who were pointing upward and gaping in shock. Knowing this could be his last chance, Pent summoned his reserves and flung two more spells. One caught a befuddled bandit in the stomach but the second one went wide. The bandits, snapping out of their confusion, charged Pent with a bloodcurdling scream.

_Damn, it's over._

As if to mock the Magic General's words, three fliers dived out of the sky and threw themselves upon the foe while a swordsman and shaman outflanked the ax men. Before Pent's incredulous gaze, the strangers fought tooth and claw to prevent the bandits from reaching him. Blessed with a moment's respite, Pent found the time to turn around and find out who had finished off the treacherous archer. Before he fully turned around, arguing voices caught his attention.

"I called him!"

"Hey, not my fault you didn't have a ranged weapon, Lyn!"

"But still," a woman's voice rang out, "Your attack smacked of assassination!"

"Look, if I hadn't acted in time, that archer may have loosened his arrow at the target," a man's gruff voice growled, "What if the one he shot was the living legend?"

_Living legend, _Pent thought, _they came into Nataba looking for Lord Athos? Ha, Lord Athos isn't foolish enough like me to get caught in such an ambush._

* * *

Jasmine and Paul frowned at the utter slaughter that lay in front of them. The treasure was almost within their grasp when those meddling warriors showed up and chopped their underlings into mincemeat. The two glanced at one another before edging slowly away from the mayhem. 

"This not be good," Jasmine said.

"No," Paul agreed, "Let's rally the boys at the oasis before coming back here."

"Yeah, our thirty brothers will be more than enough to handle them," Jasmine said, "They should already be there by now, right?"

"They might be, but you won't be there to help them when Drake crushes them."

The two warriors looked up to see a lone swordsman draw a glittering katana and pounce. Leaping with startling agility for their great size, Jasmine and Paul dived to two different sides as the katana sheared the spot where they stood a moment before with a loud swish. Drawing their axes, Jasmine and Paul kept their impudent foe sandwiched between them.

"Hmph," the young swordsman said, "Two overgrown feather bags, have it at thee!" Holding the blade lightly in two hands, the myrmidon completely ignored Paul and charged towards Jasmine with astounding speed.

Infuriated at the utter dismissal of his presence, Paul took advantage of the myrmidon's unprotected back. He was just about to let fly his mighty ax when a chilling voice behind him spoke, "Such a barbaric manner, striking at someone's exposed rear end."

Wheeling in alarm, Paul's ax smote through air as he felt a sharp pain shoot through his left shoulder. Before him, a scarred thief wearing a bandanna stood steadily, balancing a blade between his fingertips.

"I'm not much better though," the thief drawled out, "Then again, honor among thieves only applies to thieves and not bandits, right?"

"Took you long enough, Legault," the myrmidon grunted as he clashed with Jasmine.

Legault twirled his blade as he chided the swordsman, "Tch, Guy, for someone aiming to be the greatest swordsman on the Sacaen plains, your back was quite foolishly unattended."

Guy smirked, "Yeah, but I knew you have me covered."

"Flattered," Legault replied, "Do you think Drake will have trouble with the brigands?"

"After seeing Badon and Dentrass, what do you think?" Guy snorted as he parried Jasmine's counter.

"Touché," Legault said, sidestepping Paul's clumsy blow.

Upon the swirling sands, four fighters battled to the death, each straining to achieve a deadly advantage over their opponent. The brothers Jasmine and Paul, though stalwart and strong, found themselves hopelessly outmatched by the nimble swordsmen that ducked under their blows, danced around their furious slashes, and used those annoying little pin needles to prick them. Time and time again, Legault managed to sneak completely behind Paul, only to deliver a quick slash and prance away again. Guy favored a more incapacitating battle, choosing to injure his opponent's limbs and restricting Jasmine's movements. Gradually, as time wore on, the blood loss began to tell upon the beleaguered brothers.

With a mighty roar, Paul swung around and around, twirling his ax at amazing speed, intent on creating a whirlwind of destruction to crush his opponent. To his shock and dismay, Legault simply smiled and started _walking _backwards, occasionally glancing back so as to avoid tripping, but always staying infuriatingly out of range. As Paul began to slow down, Legault suddenly dashed in, blade poised for the kill, lunging forward when Paul's ax slashed the sand where the thief stood but a second before.

Jasmine screamed with fury and despair as he saw Paul's head roll on the ground as the headless corpse collapsed. Feet pounding the earth, the berserk bandit could only see red as he stormed towards Legault with uncharacteristic agility, ax wielding wildly. Caught unawares, Legault barely parried the first slash, his arm jarred numb from the impact. Stumbling back awkwardly, Legault wrenched himself aside as the ax buried itself into the sand between his legs. Legault, thinking quickly and switching sword hands, managed a lightning stab into Jasmine's left arm, but the bloodthirsty barbarian could see nothing but his foe.

"Death!" Jasmine frothed as he raised his ax overhead with both hands.

The blade pierced his heart.

Jasmine glanced downwards at the katana that grew out of his chest. Jasmine cursed himself for forgetting the myrmidon in his madness. His red eyesight gave way to darkness, and the bandit knew no more.

"Took your time, didn't you?" Legault gasped.

Guy grinned, "Hey, for someone reputed to be called the Hurricane, you were caught perilously off guard."

"Yeah, but you were supposed to finish him _before _he almost took my arm off!" Legault shot back.

"Hey, are the two of you alright?" Eliwood shouted.

"Just peachy," Legault called out, "Guy had his rear end handed to him, though."

"WHAT?"

"Score: Legault 2, Guy 1."

* * *

After Guy reported to Eliwood concerning the bandit gathering at the oasis, the group hurriedly made their way back. Overhead, Heath eased back in his saddle while Florina and Fiora breathed a collective sigh of relief. From their vantage point, they could clearly see the dotted corpses that stretched out their length yards away from the oasis. With two expert tacticians and a hale of ranged weaponry at their disposal, the defenders had made short work of the encroaching bandits. The poor fools never made it close enough to engage at close quarters. 

Canas was deep in discussion with Pent all the way back to the oasis, "You can't be serious…"

"Indeed," Pent replied, "I've been searching for the historical chronicles dating back to the time of the Scouring."

"And you found such a priceless set of books?" Canas said incredulously, "I knew there were rumors of artifacts buried in the desert, but…"

"You can take a look if you want," Pent said, "Knowledge should be shared freely to benefit everyone."

"I believe I'll take you on your offer, sir," Canas replied, his eyes already far away, "To think, an authentic manuscript of the history of mankind upon Elibe…"

Pent, however, was more interested in the way the defenders of the oasis had handled themselves. _The Schiltron Variation, _he thought, _a perfectly scattered formation, deployed to maximize its precision and number of enemy forces it can deal with at any given moment. These tactics are reminiscent of…_ He was cut short when two hooded members of the army approached him as the others mingled with their friends. His new arrivals took off their hoods when they reached him.

"Lord Pent!"

"Erk! What are you doing here?" Pent cried, "I thought you were in Lycia!"

"I'm still escorting my charge," Erk said lamely, "On the way, I met my previous charge and well, one thing led to another…"

Pent laughed, "It is an unexpected surprise to see you, along with my former pupil, of course."

"Former?" Erk asked, "You don't mean…"

"A pleasure," Cecilia curtseyed, "It has been a long time, Lord Pent."

"Still studying tactical maneuvers, Cecilia?" Pent asked, "You have a fine military mind, yet I wonder where you borrow your ideas from."

"Whatever do you mean, Lord Pent?" Cecilia asked curiously.

"This, formation," Pent said carefully, "It is similar to a lesser known commander in the Western Isles…"

"Oh, so that's what you are alluding to," Cecilia said, "I wasn't the one to command this battle, Drake was."

"Drake?"

"My mentor in tactical affairs," Cecilia explained, "I learned magic and fundamental warfare from you, Lord Pent, but I've also been studying under Drake during this campaign. You can see him over there, talking with the lords."

Pent turned his head slightly to see another hooded figure conversing with the three lords. Normally, wearing a hood wasn't strange in the desert, since it offered some shade to the relentless gaze of the sun. Yet even in this heat, Pent could feel a slight chill travel up his spine as he looked at the mysterious man. _Who is this man, _Pent wondered, _and where did he learn this formation from? I could've sworn that book was sealed in the master vault, only to be seen with the king's approval!_

"By the way, milord," Cecilia's voice snagged Pent out of his musings, "Do you know of the living legend?"

"Living legend?" Pent laughed, "Dear me, I'd have forgotten had you not reminded me. Did you come to Nabata to meet him?"

"Yes, even though we have no idea who this person is…" Erk trailed off.

"Pent," Hawkeye tapped the man on the shoulder, "Do you think…?"

"Yes, these are the ones you were sent to guide to the sanctuary," Pent answered, "Tell everyone to gather round this oasis."

"Why?"

"Because the gate to your destination lies here," Pent explained.

As the army hurried to assemble themselves, Pent drew out an ancient tome and began chanting. The swirl of magic encompassed the oasis and everyone around it within a whirlwind of power. As the fearsome magical vortex spun around them, Pent saw a teal-haired youth collide into the man known as Drake from the rear and dislodge a travel bag the man was carrying. The heavy sack spilled to the ground, disgorging a few of its contents.

Pent's eyes went wide.

The group vanished into the rune of teleportation.

An armored gauntlet lay half buried in the sands.

* * *

"How long do you think they'll be in there?" Cecilia asked. 

While Pent and Hawkeye took the lords into a separate room, the army remained lounged about in the subterranean cavern. Anyone could tell that this cavern was not wrought by mortal hands. Fully two stories in height, the walls were covered with exquisite renderings of men and… dragons. The alabaster columns that stretched from ceiling to floor were made by superb craftsmen, and yet even Canas could not tell what material they were made of.

"That is unknown," Drake replied, "Though they have not been away for very long, be patient."

"Excuse me…"

Drake and Cecilia turned to see Hawkeye standing before them, his gaze fixed upon them, "Lord Athos wishes to see the two of you."

The two tacticians followed the giant past innumerous hallways and rooms until they could steadily hear the voices of the three lords. Entering another well-furnished room, they were met by a wizened old man, Pent, a blond lady, and the three lords.

"So we are to head to the Shrine of Seals in Bern, correct?" Eliwood reaffirmed.

"That is correct," the old man said, "Hawkeye, Pent and Louise will accompany you on this quest."

Hearing the name 'Pent,' Drake stopped dead in his tracks and tried to back away, but it was too late. Already the occupants of the room were turning towards Hawkeye and his two charges. The old man slowly turned his head towards the two tacticians before him, although his eyes seemed to rest upon Drake. Behind him, Pent searched Drake's face for a moment, then waited with a cloud gathering upon his brow.

"I am Athos," he said, "So you are the tacticians whom the sons of Roland along with the daughter of Roland and Hanon spoke so highly of. Much hinges upon your abilities and strengths in this upcoming struggle. I believe your names were Cecilia and…" Athos held Drake with a penetrating look, "I don't believe I recall your name. I apologize, in my old age, I tend to forget these small details."

"This is Drake," Cecilia introduced, "My mentor and…"

"The Mad Genius of House Valshannar…" Pent started.

Everyone, barring Drake and Athos, turned to stare at Pent in confusion.

"The Curse of Caledonia," Pent added.

Cecilia's look of confusion was exchanged for a look of horror while Louise paled, Hector seemed to remember something, but Lyn and Eliwood still looked back and forth between Pent and Drake.

"What?" Eliwood asked.

Drake remained silent, only staring coldly at Pent with a barely perceptible smirk on his face.

"So you call yourself Drake now?" Pent finished, "Or should I call you Mark Valshannar, Lord of the Silver Vanguard, Hammer of Terrascars?"

The silence was so deafening that even a pin drop could be heard, but that lasted for all of one second. In a flash, Louise had drawn a bow with an arrow notched, Hawkeye had an ax ready, Eliwood unsheathed his rapier, Pent pulled out a tome, and Hector fully unhinged his ax. Cecilia was frozen in terror, Lyn was still confused, and Athos merely stood calmly by.

Throughout all this, Drake had not moved an inch, nor spoke a single word.

Then Drake chuckled, and that laughter was not sane. Raising his eyes, everyone save Athos quailed at the demonic madness that fairly danced behind his pupils. Gone was the gentle, calm, soothing voice of Drake of Etruria. What replaced it was the cold, harsh, wrathful tone that belonged solely to the Cursed One of the West.

"And only you," that voice rasped, "Pent, Count Reglay, Magic General of Etruria, would be resourceful enough to uncover the fact that the Curse and the Hammer were one and the same."

Above them, next to the oasis, the setting sun reflected off the emblem forged upon a certain half buried gauntlet. It was the sigil of a monster, a hammer and a lance crisscrossed below a falcon crest.

Every member of the Silver Vanguard wore the falcon crest, but only the general wielded the hammer along with a lance.

* * *

_So, be honest, how many people did I unleash that upon? (dodges boxes of tomatoes of protest) Thank you for reading and please review!_


	18. History and Myths

_Author's Corner:_

_At the beginning of this chapter, I was hit by a severe bout of writer's block. Fortunately, since you're reading this new chapter, you can reasonably infer that I've overcome this nasty obstacle at least for now._

_For reference, the location names in Bern are fictional representations presented by myself and not based from the actual FE7. (Since there are no locations in Bern shown on the map besides the actual 'Bern' anyways.)_

_**Lao Who Mai **– (gives cookie) Well done, and I hate cliffhangers too, but they need to be done to promote readership._

_**Dude **– Lyn's reaction will be split across two varying standpoints. The former being the part when she's in the transition of understanding the equality between Drake and Mark, the latter being when she learns the complete truth. Certain elements of the Terrascar campaign, such as the Eradication of the Lorca, were never brought to light._

_**Shadow Rave **– (lol) There is a reason why I have two tacticians running around, and part of the reason is precisely so that I can 'ditch' one of them for a short time while the other hogs the spotlight._

_**DotDotDotMan **– Again, Lyn's reaction will charge over time, but you'll have to read on to figure that out. Remember, Lyn was the first 'lord' to meet Drake, so she'd be the hardest to win over. (Well, until the Lorca situation comes up, but that can wait.) Yes, I did pull a fast one, since I took great pains in previous chapters to ensure that Drake never said that HE wasn't the Hammer._

_**Phantom Kensai **– Actually, I did allude to what Pent found in this desert, something regards to a historical chronicle. (Hey, history is worth a lot of money, especially if you're the only one writing about it!) In regards to magic tomes, I say… Bleh._

_**GM Ace **– That's the entire point of it all, since I have slowly revealed a little piece of Drake at a time, so you'll have to keep reading to find out the relationship between Drake and Mark._

_**Dias of All Final **– (is guilty as charged due to the uberly-scary glare of death) Work and writer's block got in the way, but here's your chapter._

_**Justhere2** – Alter ego? Maaaaaaybe. I couldn't give away too much in the prologue, but given that the soldiers in Chapter 1 weren't actually part of the Silver Vanguard, their information would be sketchy at best. As you may have guessed, the Terrascar incident wasn't a high point in Etrurian military affairs, and these ugly spots tend to be covered up._

_**Reis Nailo **– I have read your fiction, and I'm very interested. Keep up the good work!_

_**Phoenixfire1389 **– Well, here's the chapter! (lol)_

_**Tiger Dauthi **– Yeah, certain 'key' elements of the game should be kept the same. I don't think you were here when I received a flood of complaints when the tactician's name wasn't Mark. (Happened in like chapter 2-3)_

_**Paladin2007** – The plot DOES seem broken, but that's primarily because I made so many different interpretations. Keep reading!_

_**Rookie **– Killing hundreds in battle and hunting down rebel insurgents is quite another story from burning people alive, buddy. In the former two, death is a swift stroke of the blade. In the latter, the slayer must listen to the howls of agony as death comes slowly and torturously._

_Without further ado, I give you…_

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 17 **

**History and Myths**

_Excerpt from _Histories of Etrurian Legends

_When the state of Etruria was in its infant stages shortly after the Scouring, a single death shook the new nation to its core. Specifically, it was the death of St. Elimine, one of the Heroes responsible for mankind's victory over the dragons, that shattered the culturally sophisticated country. Squabbling nobles that once united behind a common figure turned upon one another, each eager to fill the shoes of leadership that the great Heroine had left empty. In the decade long struggle of power, the ancestor of the present day King of Etruria defeated his rivals and re-established a peaceful reign. However, even the Kings of Etruria would not be sitting on the throne this day had it not been for the tireless efforts of four individuals…_

"Mark Valshannar," Drake, no, Mark said, "I haven't heard that name in years."

The grim faces of his once faithful allies shifted slightly when Mark spoke. The Curse of Caledonia was a legend that existed ten years ago, a name that, while staggering veteran soldiers, still did not command the dominating fear in the hearts of the youthful. On the other hand, the mercilessness of the Hammer of Terrascars was a well-known fact ever since the gruesome ending of the Terrascar incident spread like wild fire amongst the populace. All across Elibe, despots and tyrants heaved a sigh of relief and wished for such a remorseless lieutenant, but the common folk and righteous alike down cried such wanton savagery.

"Not surprising," Pent replied, "Considering that your aliases during the Subjugation Wars and the Terrascar campaign were all forged."

The atmosphere of the room was still chilling, with everyone save for Mark and Athos straining to keep their composure. If not for Pent's words, Cecilia and the lords would never dream that their valued compatriot was such a zealous destroyer. Yet everyone here knew that no matter how incredible a soldier, no matter how incredible a tactician Mark was, the ring of swords around him sealed his fate.

"How did you find out it was I?"

"Who but the Mad Genius of the Valshannars could command such ruthlessness and brutality?" Pent shot back, "You are a danger to Etruria and to all Elibe, and it is high time that you have been dealt with once and for all."

Mad Genius? What the heck is that supposed to mean? Lyn, Eliwood, and Hector thought. Cecilia did not react visibly to the name, signifying that little tidbit was not common knowledge.

As Pent advanced forward, Lyn unsheathed the Mani Katti and stepped forward between the Mage General and Mark. As Pent looked down at his open spell tome to trace a spell, Lyn abruptly sent the sword ripping through the fragile leafs, sending the remnants of the book to the ground. Startled by the sudden interruption, Pent leapt away from the seeking sword and fell back a few steps. Afraid for her husband's safety, Louise took her aim off the tactician and trained her arrow upon Lyn.

"Lyn?" Hector asked, "What is the meaning of this?"

"You ask me what is the meaning of this?" Lyn said incredulously, "Neither Eliwood nor you considered for even half a second before taking sides against Drake."

"Mark," Hector corrected.

"Drake," Lyn bit back, "Mark is nothing but a name to me, as are the Curse and the Hammer, but I know and respect Drake. I've fought alongside Drake long before either of you! Wherever we go, my faith will not waver in the slightest! Now look at the two of you! Before we came to Nabata, didn't the two of you say to Lord Uther that you'd trust him with your lives?"

While all of Elibe from the Western Isles to Bern, from Ilia to Lycia had heard of the names of the Curse of Caledonia and the Hammer of Terrascars, Sacae was a relatively secluded territory, where nomads wouldn't give a damn what happened outside of the plains. Others may have shuddered at the Mark's résumé, but Lyn, who has never heard of those two terms in her life, did not flinch at the accusation.

Eliwood looked down guiltily, unable to meet Lyn's furious gaze, "But Lyn, that was before we found out…"

"Found out what?" Lyn retorted, "He is still Drake! He is still the person we count upon to lead us through battle, safe and unharmed! What is the difference?"

"The difference," Eliwood replied, "Is that he is no longer Drake, but the Hammer of Terrascars. He is a murderer, Lyn, and he must pay for the blood on his hands."

"So you have never killed someone in your life?" Lyn said steely, "How quick you are to press charges against someone else, hypocrite!"

Hector swore, "Damn it all, Lyn, I killed in combat to save my life and the lives of others! That beast over there killed for the pleasure of slaughter!"

Mark's eyes flashed for a brief moment, but his gaze did not soften.

"Your point?" Lyn said, "That still doesn't change the fact that we are here solely because of his guidance! If you harm a single hair on his head, you'll have me to deal with!" I will never again let someone I care about die before my eyes, Lyn vowed.

At that, Eliwood hesitated even more, "Lyn…"

"Cecilia!" Lyn shouted, "Where do you stand in regards to this matter?"

Shaking, Cecilia drew in a ragged breath, but did not move from where she stood. Casting her gaze left and right, she was torn between her former teacher and her mentor. Following one is betraying the other, though Cecilia knew now that Drake was indeed the darkness that Pent identified him as. I cannot make this choice, she thought in despair, which one of them failed to guide me to the best of their abilities? Oh, if the decision were only this simple…

"Well," Cecilia tried to comprise, "I understand what both of you are saying, but…"

"Out with it," Hector roared, "Which side are you on?"

Resolve weakening, Cecilia stammered, "I understand that he used to be a terrible warlord, but don't we need his strength more than ever? So far in our battles, we have been able to survive with more or less our full strength, leaving none of our comrades on the field of battle. Shouldn't we value our survival more than we question our past? Surely everyone has a few skeletons in their closet, so why should we begrudge Mark?"

"He has more than a few skeletons in his," Hector said bitterly.

It was not surprising that Hector and Eliwood sided so readily against their tactician's accusers. Born and raised in the idealistic, knightly environment of Lycia's most prominent states, both were taught from an early age not to break their vows of chivalry. The callous slaughter of the Terrascar insurgents came as a rude shock to the neighboring Lycian states, which publicly denounced such unwholesome and wanton slaughter. Though the Etrurian government quickly hushed up the exact details, innumerous loose-tongued Etrurian merchants 'accidentally' leaked the tale to foreign lands. Perhaps it was fortunate that the illusive Hammer of Terrascars had vanished, since Etruria would never be able to face the nations of Elibe had they sheltered such a war criminal.

"Lady Lyndis," Pent said calmly, "I fully understand your stance towards Mark, but…"

"You know nothing!" Lyn shouted.

"Wrong," Pent shook his head, "I am more acquainted with House Valshannar than you believe. Nevertheless, you must realize that the man that stands behind you is no longer the same Drake that you love and admire. Tear off his mask and the monster is revealed! He is Mark, a bane upon mankind! Justice demands his head as recompense for the wretchedness he has inflicted upon innocent blood! Had he been the valiant Valshannar heir and remained a loyal servant of Etruria, I'd be the first to defend him. However…"

"However?"

"However," Pent continued, a fire in his eyes that dared anyone to dowse, "As a true friend, I must also be the one to condemn his fall to the abyss, as well as the adjudicator who removes such a pestilence from Elibe! Whether you aid or hinder me is of little consequence, but this man must die."

Lyn remained defiant, but jumped when she felt Mark's hand touch her shoulder. Turning slightly, she saw Mark shake his head, the glint in his eye never fading in the slightest. Shoulders sagging, Lyn stepped aside in defeat, never able to go against the wishes of her mentor and most valued friend even if he wished to walk into the jaws of death.

"Kill him, and you will raise a more fearsome foe than any of you have ever conceived possible."

Everyone in the cavern turned in shock at Athos' words. The great Archsage merely stood calmly by, holding each in his gaze for a brief moment, before settling his eyes upon Mark.

"Lord Athos?" Pent asked.

"I repeat, slay him and ye shall face a more terrible destroyer than any of you have dreamt in your darkest nightmares," Athos replied, "Do any of you know what the servants of Nergal truly are?"

"What?" Eliwood asked, "Don't you mean who?"

"I meant what I said, Son of Roland," Athos said darkly, "Nergal has created abominations of nature, fused with the energies of the nether plane, and calling back the souls of the dead to do his bidding. In other words…"

"If we kill Drake," Cecilia said horrified, "We may be facing him on the battlefield!"

Pent, Eliwood, Hector, and Lyn paled at that thought. They knew as well as anyone else that facing Mark would be the equivalent of utter annihilation. Already, their chief tactician had achieved legendary victories working with limited forces against overwhelming numbers. How could they win with their small army against his genius when he had innumerous cannon fodder at his disposal?

"So we can't kill him," Eliwood reasoned, "Instead, we have to keep him alive at all costs. At least until Nergal is no longer any threat to Elibe."

"Quite so, Son of Roland," Athos said.

Mark smiled thinly, Truly an unexpected way of lengthening my lifespan, but naturally this will only last until the day Nergal is defeated. Bah, who cares? I fully intend to die upon the completion of this quest anyways.

"That doesn't mean we will trust him," Hector growled, "Hear me, Hammer of Terrascars! You're merely living on borrowed time until Nergal is cold and buried! Once his head hits the ground, yours will follow soon after!"

Mark chuckled as he turned swiftly on his heel, "Be my guest, Hector of Ostia! I highly doubt that you are willing to trust me as a tactician, and Cecilia is fully groomed to fly on her own. Perhaps I'll be able to enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet for a change."

"Don't count on it," Hector said angrily, "Remember, once Nergal is gone, so are you!"

Mark stopped, then turned slightly to fix Hector with an evil glare, "That is, assuming you are able to pull it off."

Mark's chilling laughter echoed continued to echo down the halls long after he passed along the halls.

* * *

_June 21st, within Bern's borders,_

_By St. Elimine, I never imagined that Drake would be the vaunted Hammer of Terrascars! Interestingly enough, because of Lord Pent's revelation, there appears to be a gigantic rift developing within the army. We are, after all, a rather closely-knit group of comrades, of which no secrets are kept between commanders and commanded. I suppose the most apparent schism is the difference between the lords. Lords Eliwood and Hector are quite suspicious of Mark's purposes, while Lady Lyndis is firmly in support of Mark._

_Naturally, this fractures the army between the three of them, with retainers following their liege lord. The mercenaries are split evenly upon this issue as well, with Fiora, Legault, Raven, Lucius, and Rath siding with Lyn. The others, such as Priscilla, Erk, Canas, Guy, Heath, and Dart favor the other lords. I do believe that the relationships between members of our war band have greatly affected this situation. Fiora and Lucius are both upright people, but because their respective sister and friend are in one camp, they'd follow as well. What amazes me is that Priscilla has shown uncharacteristic independence in moving away from Raven! Those two were inseparable early in our campaign! I suppose having multiple men seeking her hand in the Lords' camp contributes heavily towards that. Yet, one person I have not mentioned is unable to make up her mind… Me. I am now the chief consultant and tactical advisor for Lords Eliwood and Hector, but I can't help but feeling that we're making a grave mistake in ostracizing Mark…_

"What are you writing about, Cecilia?"

Cecilia hurriedly snapped her book shut and stammered, "I-It is nothing, Lord Pent! Just a few thought…"

Louise giggled, "Come now, Cecilia, I remember you were quite the composed advisor in Etruria. Why are you so flustered?"

"Well," Cecilia began, "It is very difficult, having our primary military advisor ousted so suddenly. I have a large pair of shoes to fill…"

"I'm sorry we must place such a burden upon you," Pent sighed, "It must be aggravating to see a respected counselor chained down by such a bloody past. In truth, if not for his unpredictable nature, I'd give both arms to have Mark in command."

"Unpredictable nature?"

"Yes," Pent replied, "The Curse of Caledonia you know from history books, the Hammer of Terrascars is but a recent event, but few know the true face of the Lords of House Valshannar."

"Are they part of the Etrurian nobility?" Cecilia asked.

"Nobility?" Pent chuckled, "House Valshannar dates back nearly two dozen generations as a pillar of the Etrurian Court. Why, without them, I daresay that the present day King of Etruria might very well be a different person!"

Cecilia gaped, "What?"

"Indeed," Louise said, "I've read some of the manuscripts Lord Pent has shown me, and Mark does come from an illustrious line of famous Etrurian statesmen."

"But," Cecilia stammered, "Then why…?"

"I'd answer your question right this instant if Louise and I are not urgently needed at the palace," Pent replied, "We must seek out the Queen and ascertain the location of the Shrine of Seals."

"Oh," Cecilia replied, "Don't let me delay you any further then. Please be careful, Lord Pent, Lady Louise."

After Pent and Louise departed, Legault appeared around the corner, "Cecilia, Lord Eliwood wishes to speak with you immediately."

"Of course, lead the way," she replied, "And by the way, Legault?"

"Yes?"

"You were once part of the Black Fang," Cecilia pressed on when she saw Legault stiffen, "Do you know the true identity of the Hammer of Terrascars?"

"Not quite," Legault replied, relaxing when she didn't ask him of his own involvement, "I was more of a 'house-cleaner.' My role was to eradicate traitors and cowards within the Black Fang. However, it is a well sung fact that only one person has ever eluded the Fang's justice, and that is our friendly tactician, Mark."

"I see…"

"If you wish to know more," Legault suggested, "I'd advise you speak with the man himself."

"What?" Cecilia said aghast, "How… How could I…?"

"Simple," Legault said nonchalantly, "He's standing over there, after all."

Cecilia craned her head to look, and sure enough, Mark with Lyn and Raven atop a small hill that overlooked Lake Chanta. The riverside boasted of many native products that were highly prized throughout Bern's rugged landscape. Bern, though a land famous for its military, was not well known for its fertile agriculture. The rough soil did not produce bountiful yields that were seen throughout Lycia and Etruria. Instead, Bern's farmers cultivated large fields of coarse wheat, corn, and barley, using crop rotation to keep the limited productivity at a maximum. In light of this, fish and other foodstuffs produced from Lake Chanta were a welcome addition to the average meal, which naturally caused the once rural towns such as Macrene to grow rapidly. Thanks to these popular but common goods, Macrene blossomed into one of the largest cities in Bern, with a wealth of citizens and a large market that dominated most of the town square.

Cecilia sighed, "I must speak with Lord Eliwood first, I'll speak with Mark later."

Legault, on the other hand, crept closer to the three speaking atop Werkan Hill. Seeing that Mark was deep in conversation with Lyn and Raven, Legault hesitated for a brief moment. Taking advantage of the situation, Legault and Cecilia quickly dashed behind several trees, hoping to eavesdrop upon their conversation. Never too proud to scavenge for information, Legault nestled himself inside the branches, trying to catch the words below.

"So you wish to know more about my history?" Mark asked.

Lyn nodded, "I'm more intrigued as to the meaning of the name Valshannar."

Mark fixed Raven with a piercing glance, "I believe Raven can shed some light on that matter."

Said mercenary cocked an eyebrow, "I've never heard of House Valshannar in my life!"

"Oh yes you have," Mark replied, "Everything Etrurian child has heard of my family, its just that no one comprehends what they've heard."

Raven racked his memory for what Mark was alluding to, "I don't understand…"

"You know the Tale of the Founding?" Mark asked with a smirk.

"Of course," Raven scoffed, "Everyone in Etruria knows that."

"Please," Mark said, "Relate it for Lyn's benefit."

* * *

_Continued from _Histories of Etrurian Legends,

_When a new, unified Etruria was first founded, the first king succeeded largely due to the tireless efforts of four men. In light of their accomplishments, the king decreed that these four servants would receive honors unparalleled in Etruria. When asked what they wished for, these answers the four gave:_

_The first said: I will be Honor, the chivalry and flower of knighthood. I shall become justice and righteousness, the Knight General of Etruria. Let my sword and steed bring light to every corner of our country._

_The second said: I will be Wisdom, the law and magic of truth. I shall become knowledge and conjuring, the Mage General of Etruria. Let my staff and scales bring prosperity to every citizen of our country._

_The third said: I will be Might, the valor and fame of eternal glory. I shall become strength and perseverance, the Great General of Etruria. Let my halberd and helm bring safety to every royal of our country._

_The fourth remained silent, but the king asked nonetheless. Finally, after much hesitation, he spoke._

_I will be Death, the hatred and wrath of vengeance. I shall become the darkness and mystery, the Nameless General of Etruria. Let my hammer and spear bring despair to every enemy of our country._

_These four houses stood vigil over Etruria from generation to generation, striving to meet the standard set by their forefathers. Unfortunately, over time the valor and loyalty of men waned, and several of these descendants strayed from the path of their ancestors. In time, the Knight Gerneral, the Mage General, and the Great General lost their exalted privileges. Stripped of their family title, these positions were appointed by the king, never more to be held by the same filial line._

_

* * *

_

After Raven finished, he leveled another stare at Mark, who was smirking quietly, "So what's your point?"

"House Valshannar," Lyn said.

"What?"

"Of the four Generals," Lyn said, "Only one Generalship remains in the hands of a family line. Passed down from generation to generation, would I be correct in guessing that…"

"Yes," Mark replied, "I was the Nameless General of Etruria, one of the Four, but the one name that will never make its way onto the history books."

"But what I just recounted was recorded," Raven argued, "And why is that?"

"The title can be recorded," Mark replied, "But never in the archives of Etruria will you find anything that ties House Valshannar with the General of Death. The secret is survived by the royal line and of course, the heirs of Valshannar themselves."

"So what difference does that make?" Lyn asked.

"It makes all the difference in the world," Legault said, dropping out of the trees, "I heard your entire narrative, and I can sympathize with the reason."

"And why is that?" Mark asked with a small grin.

"Because you operate in the darkness," Legault answered, "Much like the Black Fang, you are the scourge that decimates all enemies. While the Black Fang serves to root out corrupted and evil lords, you are responsible for the elimination of all who oppose the will of Etruria. This would include the Terrascars and the pirates of the Western Isles."

"In pursuit of total victory," Mark finished, "The Valshannar line answers only to the Etrurian Kings. Ever since the founding of my line years after the Scouring, the mandate has always been the complete obliteration of anything or anyone that poses a threat to Etruria. However we chose to approach this task was up to our discretion."

"Hence where the name of the Mad Genius comes from, correct?" Lyn asked.

"Precisely," Mark answered, "The Valshannar dedication to the slaughter of the foes of Etruria proved to be a dangerous element. Many times in my family history, the Mad Genius did not have to be a public figure. More often than not, they were assassins of some sort, using the shadows to remove enemies…"

Mark was interrupted by the sound of a shrill whistle being blown in the town square. Down below, the square was rapidly losing people as merchants and vendors hurriedly closed shop and hid their wares. Shoppers and peasants were scrambling willy-nilly across town, shutting doors and barring gates. Fishermen towed in their boats and sprinted home to their wives and children. All in all, it was the telltale signs of an upcoming battle.

"Has Bern's troops discovered our presence?" Lyn asked.

"That would be quite a hassle," Raven said, "With the recent border problems between Lycia and Bern, it would be quite the international powder keg if three Lycian lords were discovered infiltrating Bern with their retainers and a pack of mercenaries."

"It is too early for Bern to direct soldiers into such a remote location," Mark reasoned before glancing at Legault, "I'd think they were…"

Legault peered down, "Yeah, it's the Black Fang."

"When a common foe appears, the army bands together," Mark laughed mirthlessly, "However, when removing a traitor in their midst, the daggers come out."

"You're not going to assist?" Legault asked.

"Do you want me to?" Mark asked back.

"Hey, don't look at me," Legault said, "I'm neither for nor against you, merely looking out for myself. As long as it keeps my skin intact, I don't care who the hell you are."

Mark sighed, "I highly doubt the majority of the army will welcome me back with open arms in light of recent events. I'd probably present more of an obstacle than provide any assistance. No, it'd be best that I sit and watch from afar."

"Do you think Cecilia will be able to handle it?" Lyn asked.

"Most likely," Mark shrugged, "Though from their vantage point, they can't see the ballista platforms deployed just off the coast. Someone should warn before Florina, Fiora, or Heath gets knocked out of the sky by a ballista bolt." He looked pointedly at Lyn.

"Does it have to be me?" Lyn pleaded, "I wish to stay here."

"Yet you are one of the primary leaders of this army," Mark pointed out, "You simply must be at the battle scene."

Lyn's shoulders sagged, "Very well."

As she turned to go, Mark's voice stopped her, "Be careful, Lyn. And thank you, thank you for everything."

Lyn rewarded him with a smile, "No need to thank me." _I should be the one thanking you._

After Lyn had left, Legault also excused himself, saying that he had urgent business in town. Noting that they were alone, Raven asked, "So why did you leave your command in Etruria?"

"Hm… Maybe because I'd be dead in a few weeks if I hadn't left?"

"What are you talking about?" Raven said, "We found out that the Black Fang was after you quite recently!"

"If the Black Fang didn't complete the task, someone else might have."

"Like who?"

"Think back to the Mage General's reaction when the lords broke the news to the army."

Raven grimaced at that memory. When Lord Hector had shouted out Mark's identity to the army, the tactician would've been hacked into pieces had not several steadfast and quick-witted members of the army, mostly under Lyn's command, surrounded him in a defensive ring. Pent had gave a broad hint that Mark would have to be removed sooner or later.

"So you are insinuating that our army will terminate your existence?" Raven asked.

"No," Mark replied as he watched Rebecca and Wil shoot a hostile wyvern out of the sky.

"Then who…?" Raven sucked in a breath, "Etruria…"

"Exactly," Mark said, "I am a black dot on the spotless slate that represents Etruria's dignity and honor. After besmirching it once in the Western Isles, I'm sure they'd have been extremely pleased that I burned those poor devils to death."

"Point taken."

_I'm glad the abbreviated version spared me the details_, Mark thought, _these people do not need to know the horrors that I must limp through day after day. The memories of the damned and the recollection of the piteous wailing of the doomed shall hound me to the end of my days. I am a coward, a coward unable to stand his ground and accept the just reward for my deeds._

Below, the tide was turning the Black Fang littered the town with their dead and dying. Pressing the attack, Cecilia skillfully led the war group through the teeth of the enemy defenses and engaged the enemy leader.

_I could claim that I served Etruria to the best of my abilities, but what has that sacrifice brought me? For one millennia, the Valshannar line has toiled in service of Etruria, damning ourselves to hellgates so that others may live in peace and harmony. We have earned eternal infamy and disgrace in the eyes of others and soiled our hands in blood. I, for one, am sick and tired of bloodshed. I wish for nothing more than to live a 'peaceful' and 'normal' life, away from warfare, politics, and death. I suppose that I ill-deserve a peaceful ending, but perhaps in my death, I will ensure that the Generals of Death will never plague humanity again._

"Let this madness end," Mark muttered.

* * *

_Sorry, everyone, there wasn't a lot of fighting in this chapter. Occassionally, even I hope to take a break from writing about combat. This chapter turned out way more angsty than I imagined, so I hope it was all right! Thank you for reading and please review!_


	19. Divergent Destinies

_Author's Corner:_

_Yes, for the record, I am still alive. (I think, but that's assuming my impatient readers don't slay me for the lack of updates…)_

_Well, I suppose this chapter could only be described with one word: DELAYED!_

_**MisSkLutzZz** – Update's here. (lol)_

_**Phantom Kensai **– Well, certain morphs that you fight (in the last chapters) are characters that you've previously 'slain.' For example, you either slay Linus or Lloyd at the Shrine of Seals, but no one comes to take their quintessence. Nevertheless, you still fight their morphs before the final showdown with Nergal. And yes, good catch on the month long space._

_**Reis Nailo **– Hm… Not sure if I'll introduce the other Generals of Etruria, since I'll probably save them for a potential future fiction. As for Karel, you'll soon see… I have some plans for that maniac. (grins evilly)_

_**Shadow Rave **– Yeah, Drake (Mark) must live for the story to continue, since this is about him after all._

_**Lao Who Mai **– It freaks me out even more since I'm the one who wrote it. And yes, Lyn will find out (someday)._

_**Paladin2007** – Trust is difficult to replace once it has been lost, but I'll settle for absolute necessity. Something along the lines of, "Damn, we need Mark or we're screwed."_

_**Fairystar **– He is a person pretty much doomed for tragedy. (I think…)_

_**Ghost140** – Thanks for the review!_

_**Phoenixfire1389** – Raven is a split decision, since Priscilla was threatened only if Raven told the story behind the mask. However, that threat is null and void since the truth came out anyways. And yes, Cecilia is the future Mage General of FE6._

_**Dude **– Thanks!_

_**DotDotDotMan **– Argh, updating now… (lol)_

_**Dairokkan** – Wow, I'm flattered, but I know there are far too many authors on this website whose skills surpass mine._

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 18 **

**Divergent Destinies**

_June 22nd, before Castle Bern,_

_As a military strategist and a disciple of someone who always took advantage of a mistake, the first thing I noticed about Castle Bern was its incredible incompetence. Yes, I am accusing the strongest military force in all Elibe of militant incompetence bordering on ignorance. During our treks through Lycia, Mark and I have gone over various tactical theories in regards to the kingdoms of Elibe. I had pronounced Bern as the most indomitable force in Elibe back then, but he had merely laughed and told me Bern's might is naught but a façade, all bark and no bite. That was the first time I ever doubted the Mark's words, but after seeing the condition of Bern's defenses, by St. Elimine, I concede that I will never be able to reach my master's level._

"They are quite confident in their defenses, aren't they?"

Cecilia nodded, "Indeed, Lord Eliwood. I can scarcely see any sentries on duty."

"They probably don't need any," Hector grunted, "A patrol here and there would be sufficient to locate any intruders. With such a natural advantage atop a mountain, any invader would be crushed."

_That is_, Cecilia thought, _any invader who hasn't read Mark's_ Manuscript of Elibe's Castles, _which he refers to as How to Sack a Castle 101. I never understood why he figured out a way to simultaneously sack multiple countries across Elibe in the shortest time possible. Perchance that will come in handy in the future?_

"Still, if we have to enter the castle, wouldn't we face the same difficulties as any other invader?" Lyn pointed out.

"That's true," Eliwood admitted, "Any ideas, Cecilia?"

Before Cecilia and the three lords stood the imposing mountains that led to the gates of Castle Bern. Three steep dirt roads led the ascent to the gates, with an abandoned sentry post along each path. Overhead, the skies were clear of any incoming fliers, as the most recent wyvern patrol had already performed a routine flyby less than a quarter of a candle mark ago.

"We should move up the left path," Cecilia replied, trying to recall Mark's advice from several months ago, "There will be a fork alongside the road where we can hide from any incoming guards, all the while slowly progressing upwards. Once we arrive at the gate, we make a short detour to the right. A section of the wall should be damaged, granting us easy passage into the castle itself."

The lords gaped at Cecilia, "How do you know all that?"

Cecilia blinked, "Huh?"

"I thought you've never been to Bern before?" Hector asked, "So how do you know the terrain so well?"

"My master has taught me well," Cecilia said quickly as she led the way.

"They say that the pupil is but an extension of the master," Hector said, "Lord Pent is certainly worthy of our respect."

Eliwood nodded in agreement.

Behind them, Lyn smiled slightly, _And who truly deserves the title of master, Hector?_

As the small group moved forward, Hector suddenly asked, "Eliwood, did you leave anyone to keep an eye on him?"

Eliwood briefly glanced at Hector, "I left Marcus to make sure he didn't go anywhere."

"Good," Hector said, "I made sure Oswin was keeping tabs on Mark as well. He won't be able to do anything reckless with those two on him."

"He wouldn't be going anywhere even without your guards," Lyn retorted, "Where can Drake go? Within the army, your retainers hound him. Outside the army, the Black Fang searches for him. In his homeland, Etruria wants his head. Where do you think he'll run off to?"

"Mark," Eliwood corrected.

"Drake," Lyn said adamantly.

"A monster is a monster wherever he goes," Hector growled, "A murderer cannot awash himself of the blood that stains his hands. He is not to be trusted."

"Trust," Lyn said bitterly, "So fragile, yet so strong. The bonds that connected you to him were severed so easily, but I will cherish mine forever."

"What makes him so important to you?" Hector asked, "Curse of Caledonia, Hammer of Terrascars, the list could go on and on, but yet you still cling to him as if he were life itself."

_Perhaps I care for him, you nitwit. _"You seem to forget that without this 'monster,' the two of you would never have survived Laus, nor would I be reunited with my grandfather at Caelin."

Eliwood grimaced and would've replied had not Cecilia motioned for silence. Overhead, several squadrons of wyvern riders were undergoing a routine checkup. The group hurriedly sought shelter beneath a rocky overhang, watching as the wyverns made their way south.

"Odd, that's not the normal patrol," Eliwood commented.

"Yeah, the last patrol merely swung around the castle thrice before leaving," Hector added, "Not counting that this group was three times the size of the previous one."

"They seem to be…" Cecilia said, "Moving southwards, towards the main encampment!"

"The army is scattered," Lyn said with a frown, "If they get caught in the open by a mass of wyvern knights…"

"It'd be slaughter!"

"We must push on," Cecilia said, "Our objective lies within the castle, perhaps a clue to where the Fire Emblem is."

"And the army?" Eliwood asked, "What happens to them?"

Cecilia stared at Eliwood, "They have an infinitely more capable strategist down there to guide them. Our assistance is not necessary."

"Mark?" Hector asked incredulously, "And which fool in our army would follow that madman?"

"Lyndis' Legions," Lyn replied, "And anyone else who wants to live until tomorrow."

* * *

"Mark," Raven said as he entered Merlinus' tent, "Wyverns incoming, estimated time of arrival is roughly half a candle mark." 

"That long?" Mark replied, "Bern's discipline has certainly gotten lax over the years. At the onset of Desmond's reign, the rally time for the wyvern hosts of Bern was roughly half of that time. Unless…"

"What is it?"

"Never mind, anything else I need to know?"

"The army is scattered, the lords haven't returned with Cecilia yet, and we barely have enough people to hold this area," Raven rattled off, "Your orders? I can vouch that Lady Lyndis' forces and half of the mercenaries will heed your commands, but the others…"

"Sir Mark," Merlinus frowned, "Sir Marcus and Sir Oswin did ask me to keep an eye on you. I am, after all, a vassal to Lord Eliwood, but even I know that our group's survival comes first. If the army is destroyed here, the lords stand little chance of stopping Nergal's ambitions."

"The army is scattered," Mark stated, "If we attempted to rally here, the stragglers would be picked off on their way here."

"We can't make a stand at the moment!" Raven cried, "Our base camp largely consists of only casters and no melee! The spells may bring down several of the wyverns, but in a toe-to-toe contest, we'd easily lose ground."

"That would be true, if the attackers were from Bern's main army," Mark said.

"What?"

"Legault," Mark said.

The tent flap opened, "It's the Black Fang," Legault reported, "Most of the riders are Black Fang infiltrators who were recruited into the army, but have maintained their ties with the Fang."

"I fail to see how that changes the situation," Merlinus said.

"That changes everything," Mark corrected, "Instead of eradicating the entire army, their objective changes to something more feasibly defensible for us."

"…You mind explaining that without speaking in riddles?"

"You'll see," Mark said, "Merlinus, did the villagers happen to deliver the supplies we purchased recently?"

"Yes," the merchant replied, "The shipment came in this morning. Why do you ask?"

"I'll need to borrow their services for a little longer," Mark answered, "Tell them I'll reimburse them for their troubles or any potential damage to their goods."

"You're saying that as if it's a certainty."

"Of course, because I know catastrophic damages are imminent. Now listen closely…"

* * *

Vaida and her command swooped over the mountain ridges in perfect formation. Two full squadrons of wyvern knights were a fearsome force in the skies, well known for their ferocity and agility in combat. In aerial combats throughout Elibe, pegasi riders were well known to be the most disciplined and the most well rounded units, capable of handling various tasks from air-to-ground cover to scouting to pursuing routed foes. However, the wyvern knights of Bern were in a class of their own, legendary for going hand to hand with some of Elibe's hardiest knights, such as representatives from Ostia and Etruria. Widely regarded as the fiercest military division on the face of Elibe, few could withstand a wyvern knight at full throttle. 

However, Vaida had a different objective in mind, one that was delegated to her not by King Desmond, but by Sonia of the Black Fang. As per her orders, Ninian and Nils were to be retrieved at all costs, any obstacles be damned. To be frank, Vaida wished for nothing more than to snap her foes' necks between the jaws of her mighty wyvern, but experience told her that wasting unnecessary time on appetizers would let the main course elude her grasp.

"Commander Vaida, look!"

Below them in the midst of the enemy camp, two teal-haired children were climbing aboard a wagon. As soon as the two entered, the wagon took off at full speed away from the encroaching wyvern squadrons. Fleeing southwards, the transporter disappeared into a small patch of forestry, materializing a few moments later on the other side.

"Running away?" Vaida snorted, "The cowards! Quick, follow that wagon! Bring me the children at all costs!"

Desperation lending speed to their wings, the wyvern knights hurtled through the air above the hostile enemy camp, trying to ignore the barrage of magical weaponry directed skywards. Unfortunately, several well-aimed spells scored heavily upon Vaida's command, as wyvern after wyvern tumbled out of the sky. Vaida cursed inwardly, vowing to return and slaughter the audacious enemy as soon as the children were secured. Chancing a glance downwards, she noticed that the campsite was being dismantled, its members struggling to pack their goods and quit the area.

"Fools," she murmured, "It does not matter where you run, you'll never outrun my vengeance. Flee for your lives and enjoy them however long you can, whelps!"

Moments later, her surviving units cornered the fleeing wagon. Surrounding the fleeing vehicle, the warriors coerced the terrified driver to surrender his cache. Anticipating a golden reward, one of the men peeked into the rear of the wagon. Eyes widening, the man let out a yelp of dismay shortly before Vaida cuffed him in the head. Turning to ascertain the reason for his exclamation, Vaida also looked inside.

The wagon was empty save for a few random baskets of vegetables.

* * *

"I trust that your sortie was a success?" Pent asked as the lords returned. 

"Somewhat," Eliwood admitted, "We've uncovered several details regarding the Bern royals that may prove useful. Though…"

"We certainly wasted several long moments searching for camp," Lyn said, "We were quite shocked when we came upon an empty campsite with the ashes doused."

"We had a brief run-in with Black Fang wyvern riders," Louise answered, "Mark connived a deception to lure the foes away while our forces could regroup."

"Mark?" Eliwood looked at the tactician who remained silent, leaning against the tent flap. Mark did not turn, merely staring outside at the hustle of the camp.

"Anyways," Hector interrupted, "Our objective is the retrieval of the Fire Emblem in ten days time. I've purchased a tip from a reliable informant regarding a probable location of such an artifact."

"Where is it?" Cecilia asked.

"There are a trio of forts located along the Three Fjords," Hector said, "Long abandoned by Bern's military, the Black Fang has renovated the area into a makeshift military base. Heavily defensible, a large detachment was seen headed towards there recently. The spy also informed me that some high-ranking member made their way to the dungeons before returning."

"Bern's most priceless artifact hidden in a dungeon?" Eliwood wondered aloud.

"But what of the Black Fang wyverns?" Lyn asked, "Rath managed to follow their wounded all the way to a fortress located in the mountains."

"I highly doubt that they'd stash the Fire Emblem at a location that any random member of the Black Fang knows about," Hector scoffed.

"I agree," Cecilia said, "We should push on to the Three Fjords and ascertain the location of our quarry."

The group exited the tent, leaving Mark and Lyn alone with their thoughts. At length, Lyn glanced at her tactician before asking his opinion.

"Let the Fangs' steel trap shatter itself upon the armor of our allies," Mark said carelessly, "We have more important things to do."

* * *

_June 26th, base camp near the fortresses that defend the Three Fjords,_

_By St. Elimine, I scarcely believe that there is a more defensible site in all of Elibe! The natural formation of the area renders any invader susceptible to assault from three directions! We are currently encamped at the fork leading to two of the three miniature castles. To our southern flank, the road leads directly into a dense patch of forestry, leaving little to no space for any cavalry maneuvering. To the west, a beaten path leads to the most formidable bastion situated at the Three Fjords. Lady Lyndis opted to stay behind and watch our backs with a token force while at the same time keeping an eye on Mark. Fortunately, to aid our cause, Lady Lyndis delegated Sir Kent and Sir Sain to assist us in the troublesome assault upon the Three Fjords._

"This will not be an easy takedown," Hector muttered.

Eliwood shook his head as they scrutinized the map, "I have to agree…"

Across the narrow bridge that led to the middle bastion, Black Fang riders could already be seen forming into a wedge of heavy horse. Southwards, Heath reported a veritable mob of warriors and pirates marshalling themselves.

"More news," Cecilia said dismally, "Rebecca just informed me that pegasi riders were seen lifting off from the northeastern camp. Their estimated time of arrival will be roughly a candle mark. From the flights headed skywards, there are roughly a dozen enemy fliers."

"And no way to approach the northeast from the ground," Hector grimaced, "Heath is only one man, he can't survive a twelve on one dogfight no matter how skilled he is."

"We cannot attack the forts one by one," Eliwood reasoned aloud, "In the event we make our move against one of them, the other two will swing around and take us in the rear."

_Which would end in utter defeat_, Cecilia thought, "Then we'll simply attack them all simultaneously."

Hector gave her a look that plainly said she was raving mad, while Eliwood managed to make out a barely intelligible, "What?"

"Divide and conquer," Cecilia continued, trying to ignore the incredulous looks from the two lords, "If we challenge all three bastions at the same time, we can separate the defenders into three different departments rather than dueling the combined force in one gulp." _Now I just need to convince them_, Cecilia noted, persevere regardless of incredulity, _how the heck does Mark do this so casually?_

_

* * *

_  
"Do you see the him?"

"Yes, but even without the wind, it'll be a tough shot."

"Try your best, but do understand that if you fail, you'll alert all the defenders."

"Great, no pressure, right?"

"Of course not," the figure said, pointing upwards, "If you can't bring him down, then they will."

The archer turned briefly to eye the two pegasi riders lifting off and grinned impishly, "And let them take all the glory? I don't think so."

* * *

Kent's horse reared as a ballista bolt thudded into the ground not two feet before its hooves. However, not for nothing was Kent appointed Knight Commander of Caelin. Even under attack, he sustained his high reputation and kept his saddle. Sain, seeing the bolt embedded in the ground, hurriedly sounded the alarm. 

"Fliers, incoming!"

"Archers stand by to repel pegasi riders," cried Pent. He had been delegated the defense of the base camp while the lords were away.

Arrows, javelins, and spells alike hurtled through the air with deadly purpose. Pegasi riders twisted and dodged, wheeling their mounts as quickly as humanly possible to dodge the killing rain. Aground, archers and fighters scrambled to avoid the returned javelins. A well-aimed spell slammed painfully into a pegasus' wing, dropping knight and mount into the welcoming jaws of the sea.

The few pegasi knights that managed to make a strafing run against the camp defenders soon found themselves in a rather unhealthy situation. The various arrow and spell flingers were snuggly hidden behind a wall of men bristling with axes. Several riders found their steeds cruelly hamstrung, spilling the knights from their saddles and into the waiting hatchets.

Though outnumbered, Cecilia had ensured that the defenders were well situated to handle the pegasi raiders. With Dorcas, Bartre, Dart, and the newly recruited Geitz buying time for Rebecca and Louise, there was little chance the enemy could penetrate long enough to cause serious harm to the unarmored archers. Assuming a wary Pent didn't fry whomever the ax men failed to annihilate.

* * *

"You missed." 

"Did not! See that pointy little arrow sticking out of his thigh?"

"Did that stop him from trying to sound the alarm?"

"Err…"

"I rest my case. Thank St. Elimine I had someone else marking him as well."

"Wait a minute, you had someone else ready to cover if I screwed up? Why didn't you tell me in the first place?"

"Because I wanted to see how well you acted under pressure?"

"…So that's why you said 'no pressure,' right?"

* * *

Hector angrily plucked an arrow that penetrated his hauberk. Had the bodkin tip went half a centimeter further; the barb would've been much harder to remove. Fortunately, its force spent from the distance traveled, the enemy warrior's arrows merely pierced the armor plating. _Damn, if Eliwood hadn't shouted a warning…_ He left that thought hanging, no need to sound more pessimistic. 

Hacking through dense foliage and being wary of enemy ambushes certainly was not a good way to start the offensive. Given their terrain advantage, the Black Fang defenders would most likely know every nook and cranny of this piece of rock, while Eliwood and himself were still trying to navigate the treacherous landscape. Eliwood had barely caught a glimpse of the hidden bowman before warning his comrades. Fortunately, while the man was intent on bringing down a lordling, Guy and Matthew managed to ambush the distracted ambusher.

"Damnable," Hector growled, "Eliwood, how much farther?"

Eliwood motioned for silence before gesturing with his left hand, "Couple dozen yards, I believe. I don't think they're aware how close we are."

"So they took the bait, eh?" Hector muttered, "Then let's get that Elimine-forsaken Fire Emblem and go home."

Eliwood did not need to repeat the obvious, but his eyes clearly agreed with Hector's comment.

Guy and Erk stole along their left flank, silent as the whispering wind. Matthew and Canas crept along their right flank, swift as the darting shadows. The hapless guards were elated to find that only two foolish lords had stumbled into their midst. Throwing caution to the winds, they scrambled to their feet and hurtled themselves upon their 'defenseless' prey.

Caught by surprise, the Black Fang guards soon found themselves beset upon multiple fronts. Their brief shock and dismay was more than enough to tilt the scales of morale in favor of Eliwood and his companions. Fierce in despair, the defenders valiantly attempted to rally against their foes, but were violently scattered by the arrival of another newcomer. After all, when attacked from three different sides at once, who has the time or opportunity to look skywards?

Hurtling through the clouds, an unidentified pegasus knight bulled her way through the unsuspecting pile of ax men. Before they could recover from the lightning blow, Hector and Eliwood were already upon them. Then the slaughter began in earnest.

After the melee was over, the female pegasus knight dismounted and raked her eyes over the lords. Her gaze resting upon Hector, she grinned cheekily before speaking, "Well, wasn't that unpleasant. I believe yonder skirmish might've been considerably more difficult without my timely assistance."

Regaining command of his manners, Eliwood smiled back, "Indeed, we are grateful for your help. Yet, you don't strike me as one of the Black Fang members, so who are you?"

"My name is Farina. I'm a mercenary by trade, and I wield my spear for the highest bidder."

_She has considerable skills with a lance_, Hector thought, "Excellent, we could always use another flier. You're hired."

Farina raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure? Are you aware how much the services of a full-fledged pegasus knight such as myself costs?"

Hector dismissed the matter out of hand, "However much it is, I'll match the price. It's not like I'm hiring an army or anything. I'll have Merlinus bring the gold."

"Sweet!" Farina crowed in triumph and pulled out a parchment, "Well, since I'm already hired, please sign this contract here…"

Eliwood was shocked, "Uh, Hector? Shouldn't we consider this a little more…?"

"Who cares?" Hector said casually before affixing his signature on the paper, "It couldn't possibly be more than a few thousand."

"Well, if you say so…"

Canas took charge of the document after Hector finished signing. His monocle popped out of its position when he read the fine print, "Err, Lord Hector?"

"What is it?" Hector grumbled.

"Did you bother reading this?" Canas pointed at the document.

Hector shrugged, "I skimmed it, why?"

Canas gulped, "You just hired Dame Farina for thirty thousand gold."

The only sound that could be heard was the cheerful autumn wind blowing a few dry leaves away.

"WHAT?" Hector screamed while Erk and Matthew gaped.

_Thirty thousand gold_, Erk thought incredulously, _I wouldn't make that much even if I spent ten years working as an escort!_

Matthew, on the other hand, kicked himself mentally, _Damn it all, why didn't I think of that before?_

Farina giggled victoriously, "Well, it's not my fault that you didn't read the contract more carefully before signing it."

Eliwood covered his eyes with a hand and groaned, "I knew we should've hired an army."

* * *

"Who are the primary defenders of that group?" 

"Ask the new guy, he should know."

A broad knight strode forward, "In order to decapitate the resistance, you would need to remove two people. One is a trained warrior while the other is a spell caster."

"Get in, get out, and get on with life."

"Any ideas?"

"Of course, we go knocking on the front door."

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that."

A swordsman appeared out of the shadows, "And why not charge through the middle? Anybody would revel in the glory of personal combat!"

"Anybody that was insane," one of the men muttered underneath his breath.

"I heard that."

"Don't kill him yet, please," the leader said tiredly.

"He can't kill me if he tried."

"You want to wager your life on that?" The swordsman challenged.

* * *

If the battle at the southern fortress was a cakewalk, the assault upon the northern bastion was anything but that. Anyone who has read about honorable knights engaged in the death match over the love of a fair maiden underneath a beautiful sunny day would've laughed at the irony. Instead, actual combat between knights was more of a struggle of wills rather than a duel of swords and lances. Along the narrow bridge that separated the northern bastion from the mainland, two lines of cavalry seesawed back and forth in their contest of mastery. Certainly, the knights in servitude to the Lycian lords were superior in terms of knighthood and valor, but for every Black Fang cavalier that fell, two more sprang in to fill the gap of the fallen. 

Harried by the overwhelming enemy reinforcements, the Lycian knights rallied around the stalwart Oswin, who stood as steady as a mountain in the middle. Each ponderous step he took, the mighty Ostian knight led his comrades one step closer to victory. To his right, Kent and Sain jousted furiously with opposing cavaliers, unhorsing man after man with their long reaching spears. Typically, a knight's lance was roughly ten feet in length. Kent and Sain, however, prudently chose to equip themselves with a _footman's_ 14-foot long spear, giving themselves a range advantage over their foe. To Oswin's left, Isadora, Marcus, and Lowen spurred their valiant steeds in a veritable dance of steel, their swords singing a terrible hymn of death to any fool who got in their way.

Overhead, Heath repeatedly dived into the melee, scattering enemy horsemen left and right. No matter how well trained a destrier was, no warhorse could abide the sight of a screaming wyvern charging straight at them. Whenever Hyperion plunged into the melee, the Black Fang charge would dissipate as easily as a scythe separates wheat.

At length, a Black Fang member emerged from the crowd worthy enough to challenge the united Lycian knights. Wearing a lion's helm crested with dragon's wings complete with a grotesque smirk etched upon the breaver, the burly Pascal looked every inch the nightmare his reputation deemed him. Known as the Beast for his wanton savagery of battle, the corrupted knight was dishonorably discharged from Bern's military. Scratching a living as a sell sword, he was deemed too dangerous for that task as well. However, certain higher-ranking members of the Black Fang had seen promise in his thirst for battle and sheltered him, waiting to unleash him upon a troublesome target.

"I am Pascal the Beast!" The demon roared, "Come and perish before my blade!"

Thus shouting his challenge, the man once known as Pascal urged his thunderous stallion forward. Bulling aside his allies, all he could see was a sea of red that illuminated his vision.

"Death!" Pascal hissed as he slammed his spear towards the armored knight in the middle of the line.

Though his vision was limited due to the narrow slits in his helm, even Oswin could see the berserk knight stampede towards him like a pack of hounds unleashed from hell. Yet he did not quail. Proud knight and stolid mountain of steel was Oswin of Ostia, and he blunted the powerful stab upon his battle-defaced shield. Four times the knights clashed, four times the Ostian remained standing, unbent and unbowed. It was then the tide of battle separated their duel.

Maddened by the interruption, Pascal tried to circumvent the crowd and clash again with his foe, but the densely packed wall of steel afforded little space for him to charge into. Blinded by his bloodlust, the Beast failed to notice Heath flanking him until it was too late. Before he could react, a well-timed lance blow smashed into his right shoulder. Stung by the blow, Pascal's grasp on his lance weakened. As the heavy lance fell to the bridge, Hyperion latched onto the bridle of the Beast's stallion and bodily lifted man and horse over the side of the bridge.

A few moments later, the stallion emerged swimming for shore, but of the crazed beast there was no sign. A few bubbles broke the surface of the ocean, but that was all. No mortal man had ever survived a plunge into the dark confines of water fully armored.

Seeing the ghastly death of their leader, the Black Fang cavaliers fled with all possible speed.

* * *

_July 1st, after the rendezvous with Lady Lyndis at Macrene,_

_Our attack on the Three Fjords ended in failure. Ultimately, the Black Fang withdrew after we occupied two of the areas. Unfortunately, after a thorough search through the entire area, we were unable to recover the lost Fire Emblem. The round trip to the fjords cost us precious time that we could ill-afford to spend unwisely. Tomorrow is the day for Prince Zephidel's coming-of-age ceremony, but it cannot commence without the emblem itself. With that, our lead to the Shrine of Seals dries up as well. Morale is low as we endure the force march back to Macrene…_

Hector, Eliwood and Cecilia stared at the crimson gem that lay on the table in utter disbelief.

"You mean to tell me that after a week and a half's work we ended up with nothing," Hector said, "And yet you and a tiny task force retrieved the vaunted Fire Emblem in half the time?"

"I considered sending Fiora or Florina to alert you two of its retrieval," Lyn said calmly, "But since we are in a hostile country, I felt that it would be safer to await your return."

"How did you know we would return on time?" Eliwood asked.

Cecilia coughed, "Pardon me, Lord Eliwood, but you must remember that we are obligated to give Queen Helena our report regardless of success or failure. Which means we simply must speak with her tomorrow, with or without the Fire Emblem."

"So how the bloody hell did you find this Elimine forsaken stone?" Hector barked.

"Tracking," Lyn replied, "Rath and I combined our efforts to trail the Black Fang members who withdrew after their unsuccessful attack outside Castle Bern. It led us to the fortress that the two of you deemed too unimportant to pay attention to."

Eliwood winced, "I see your point."

"The infiltration part was more difficult," Lyn continued, "Since we had a limited amount of fighters, everything had to be done with utmost secrecy and stealth. Frankly speaking, we ended up avoiding the majority of the Black Fang guards, only wasting time to eliminate anyone we could not bypass without being noticed."

"How did you know where the Fire Emblem was held?" Cecilia asked.

"Legault led us to the treasure rooms," Lyn answered after taking a sip from the herbal tea she was brewing, "The catch was that the artifact was guarded by two high-ranking Black Fang loyalists, an assassin and a bishop. We eliminated them with minimal problems and picked up a few new recruits on the way. One of them, a man named Harken, claims to be a Pheraen knight in service of Lord Elbert."

"Harken?" Eliwood asked, "I thought he was lost along with the others…"

"Wait," Hector interrupted, "You took great pains to say 'we…'"

Lyn smirked, "Of course, did you think I could pull this off alone?"

"Naturally Lyn took along her retainers," Eliwood started, and then grasped what Hector was aiming at, "Wait, Lyn, you didn't…?"

"If you are referring to me," Mark's voice drifted in, "Then yes, I was with Lyn the entire way."

Hector and Eliwood flashed Lyn a betrayed look, but Lyn paid no attention whatsoever, "If the two of you thought I was about to challenge a Black Fang fortress outnumbered ten to one without a valued tactician to guide me, then the two of you are raving mad."

Eliwood winced, "Well, that's true, and we did take Cecilia with us…"

"That is NO excuse!" Hector exploded, "The man is untrustworthy! We don't know if he is playing us false or not!"

"Even if I told you that Drake guessed before hand that your trip to the fjords was a complete waste of time?" Lyn asked airily.

Hector and Eliwood stared at Lyn, but Cecilia spoke up, "Mark is being hunted down by the Black Fang, so he couldn't be in correspondence with them. So how did you deduce that it was a trap?"

"Think about the circumstances and how you obtained the tip," Mark answered, "The Black Fang, after being established by Brendan Reed for nearly a score of years, is competent enough not to let its secrets leak out to any random informant. I'd wager that tip was planted as bait to draw in our forces unto a battlefield pitted against superior forces and of grounds not of our choosing."

"Numerically superior and grounds not of our choosing," Eliwood murmured, "You definitely got that part right."

"On the other hand, Rath and Lyn have picked up another trail leading to another fortress," Mark mused aloud, "This, on the contrary, should not be an attempt to lead us astray. With the bait planted amongst the spies and thieves guilds throughout Bern, the Black Fang would expect our army to advance towards the Three Fjords, where their ambushers will pounce on our 'unsuspecting' force. The real target lies where Lyn and Rath marked out. If the Fire Emblem is not located there, we still stand a reasonable chance of capturing someone who does know its location."

"Wouldn't it be more advantageous for the entire host to attack the winter compound?" Cecilia asked, "It is a trap at the Three Fjords, after all."

"But it serves as a diversion," Mark corrected, "Even if we move with all possible stealth, the Black Fang will probably be alerted to our movements anyways. However, once they are assured that our target is the Three Fjords, then they'll concentrate on fortifying the location instead of actively seeking out our hidden agenda, namely the infiltration of their winter fortress."

"So you used us as bait," Hector said grimly.

"Consider this then, Lord Hector," Mark drawled out, "Assuming I _had _warned you about the fjords being a trap, would you listen?"

Hector didn't hesitate, "No."

"I rest my case."

"Lord Hector was always impulsive," Cecilia sighed, "Small wonder he paid thirty grand for the services of one mercenary."

Mark raised an eyebrow and Lyn nearly spat out her mouthful of tea. "You paid _how much_?" Lyn screamed after swallowing with no little difficulty.

Hector had the tact to look somewhat ashamed, "Yeah, yeah, I did something stupid, now everyone get off my case."

"Anyways," Lyn said after leveling a contemptuous glare at Hector, "There is one more thing that we managed to overhear during our little raid. The Black Fang is plotting to slay Prince Zephidel tonight."

"…Why?" Eliwood asked in a confused tone.

"We don't know," Lyn said, "All I know is that there will be an assassination attempt tonight, and if we want the location of the Shrine of Seals…"

"The Fire Emblem would be of more use if the prince is still alive," Hector said grimly, "Cecilia, we'd need a battle plan."

"She's no longer here," Nils piped up from the tent flap, "She left a few minutes ago when Master Drake left."

"You call him Drake as well?"

"Drake, Mark," Nils said, "What's the difference in a name? It doesn't change who he is."

* * *

"Mark, I need to speak with you!" 

Said tactician turned briefly from his vantage point over Lake Chanta to regard Cecilia walking uphill to meet him.

"What is it?"

"I'm dragging you back to the command tent," Cecilia stated a no-nonsense tone, "We both know that you have ten times the skills I possess, and truth be told, I rather be a pupil watching a master at work rather than a fish floundering in deep water."

Mark let out a sinister laugh, at which Cecilia shuddered, "Do the Lords Hector and Eliwood agree with what you are saying?"

"No," she said in a quiet voice, "But surely reason…"

"Reason," Mark curtailed her comment, "Men blinded by arrogance and idealism cannot listen to the calm voice of reason. When their blood has cooled, let them seek me out."

"But…"

"You are the tactician now," he continued, "You must guide this flock of sheep and shelter them against their foes. Go now and leave me in peace."

The mantle of duty rejected, the pupil took leave of her master. She could only pray that the lords would come to their senses, for by the gods, they were doomed without the Hammer of Terrascars.

* * *

_Thank you for reading and review if you have the time!_


	20. Requiem for the Shadow

_Author's Corner:_

_After a few (long) months of struggle, the end of Hammer of Terrascars is in sight. In the foreseeable future month or two, this journey will probably reach its conclusion, opening the door to a highly probable sequel. Naturally, since this fiction is largely a novelization of Fire Emblem 7, the sequel will most likely be infused with large elements of Fire Emblem 6: The Sealed Sword. Those of you who enjoyed Hammer hopefully will not be disappointed._

_On a second note, it has come to my attention via e-mail that the Terms of Service on this website no longer allows/promotes writers to respond to reviewer comments in the actual chapters itself. (This does not mean that you shouldn't review!) If you would like feedback for your ideas, by all means drop an e-mail address in your review and I'll get back to you whenever I can (in my infinite leisurely time…)_

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 19 **

**Requiem for the Shadow  
**

_July 1st, doors of Sunset Palace, Dwelling of the Prince,_

_Of all the trusted vassals and mercenaries within our outfit, somehow the lords agreed that I would be the most suitable candidate to carry the Fire Emblem. I'd have sooner turned the relic over to my mentor, but he adamantly refused the task. Fortunately for us, Legault managed to obtain a floor plan for the Sunset Palace while we were away on that wild-goose chase at the fjords. However, I am concerned about the combat readiness of our task force. After nearly a dozen miles of forced marching behind us, will we be able to repel the elite Black Fang troops sent to terminate Prince Zephidel? The Sunset Palace is one of the most heavily defensible sites in all of Bern, considering that the heir to the throne resides there. The worst possible I can come up with reasonable probability would be a rescue attempt while Bern's elite guards and the Fang infiltrators are fighting to the death while we try to dance our way between them. Either side would be more than willing to kill us rather than the painstaking task of asking questions first…_

"Either approach has its advantages," Cecilia noted.

Lyn nodded, "Our concentrated force should be sufficient to pierce any obstacle the Black Fang's group sets before us whichever route we take."

Eliwood disagreed, "The essence is _time_, something our enemy has in abundanc, but we sorely lack at this moment. Our mission will end in failure if we do not reach the prince before his assassins do."

"Yet we cannot split our forces," Hector remarked, "After all, we only have _one_ trustworthy tactician at this moment. Sending a second group without any leadership is potential disaster."

Cecilia and Lyn both started to protest, but Eliwood beat them to it, "Sometimes, necessity must outweigh the risk involved. I propose we reinstate Mark, if only for this brief engagement."

Lyn smirked victoriously, but Hector was appalled, "Mark? Eliwood, have you lost your mind?"

"Not at all," Eliwood replied, "Regardless of his gruesome resume, he _is_ the most brilliant, if somewhat questionable, military mind we have. While all of us were lured into the Three Fjords, he was able to see through the ruse, accurately pinpoint and retrieve the Fire Emblem with Lyn's aid."

"He is chancy and undoubtedly untrustworthy," Hector retorted.

"Yet the fact remains that he is our primary tactician who has never led this group false," Cecilia pointed out, "I may not have lost a major conflict yet, but we must all concede the point that without Mark, we'd have lost the war in terms of retrieving the Fire Emblem."

"He will not march alongside me!" Hector thundered.

"Fine, he'll go with…"

"No, Lyn," Eliwood interrupted, "I'll take Mark along with me across the left entrance of the palace. I admit that I've lost faith in the past, and this may be the last chance for me to reestablish my belief in Mark. Cecilia will go with the two of you down the halls on the right."

Hector looked unhappy, "I still think we are making a grave mistake."

_And I can scarcely recall the fond memory when we liberated that Pheraen village, _Eliwood thought, _it is high time that I revalued my stance towards Drake._

_

* * *

_

"So the Angel of Death failed?"

"Indeed, such a waste of talent. His fall was merely due to his inability to finish off a defenseless girl!"

"A pretty one?"

"Curb your desires, Maxime. I will not have cumbersome oafs slobbering over my dress."

"Yes, Lady Ursula. My sincere apologies," the knight bowed.

Ordinarily, a false knight such as Maxime would have never been accepted among the ranks of the vaunted Black Fang, especially during the days that Brendan Reed ruled. Since the advent of Sonia and Nergal, a righteous legion of crusaders was corrupted into a mob of immoral monsters. Any bandit, thief, murderer or lawbreaker was readily accepted, so long as he or she wielded a weapon with a tolerable degree of skill. With Brendan in Sonia's nefarious clutches, long time members such as the Angel of Death and the Hurricane deserting, along with innumerous loyalists such as the Linus and Uhai slain, the end of the once proud Black Fang was at hand.

Maxime once boasted of a lineage that fair extended half a dozen generations. A proud knight of Bern who fought with unparalleled horsemanship and chivalry, his feats were sung of across the land. As one of General Murdock's right hand men, Maxime saw his career and position quickly scrambling up the rungs of glory. Alas, he ran afoul the very vows he swore to king and kingdom when he abused the purity of several innocent maidens, nearly causing him to lose his honorable position as a noble peer. Should the cry of the victims reach the right ears, Maxime could easily be stripped of his knighthood and arms, doomed to live out the rest of his days as an oath breaker. Black Fang members, on the other hand, saw something left to salvage in his failing honor, and offered him a gift he couldn't refuse: So long as he became a servant of darkness, the darkness would see to it that the terrible charges against him would be, removed… Foolishly, he accepted.

"I don't need your false words," Ursula snapped, "Bring me their heads along with Zephidel's carcass. You know the price of failure…"

"Of course, Lady Ursula," Maxime muttered underneath his breath as the valkyrie rode away, "You there! What the hell are you doing standing there gawking? Find that damnable Jaffar and kill him!"

"B-but," the man stammered, "It's the Angel of Death we're talking about here…"

"Fool!" Maxime thwacked the man on the head with the butt of his lance, "He may be a brilliant assassin, but even he is mortal! Stick him with spears and he'll bleed, stab him with swords and he'll die! Now hop to it!"

* * *

"You sem to trust the man more than you should," Hector remarked.

"Trust between the two of us measures far beyond petty ideals," Lyn replied calmly, _and you are more a fool not to put your trust in him._

"Petty?"

"On the plains," Lyn continued, "We could readily forgo the history lesson to benefit the tribe. Rarely do nomads show contempt over a bloody history. When survival is put to the test, we can afford to allow a few skeletons dangling from the closets as long as the majority derives the benefits."

Hector made as if to comment, but Lyn silenced him with a glare, "I dare you to insult my upbringing by blaspheming Sacaen logic."

One look at Lyn's hand straying dangerously close to the Mani Katti convinced Hector to stifle his comment, at least for the moment. There would be a much more appropriate time and place to finish this argument rather than in the middle of a battle. Mentally, Hector was growing increasingly aware that Eliwood no longer shared a similar distaste towards Mark. It could be his best friend's involvement with Ninian may have softened his judgment, given that the dancer and her little brother greatly respected their first tactician. Yet Hector could never forget the way Uther shuddered when someone spoke the name of the Hammer so many years ago, and his brother _never_ wore his dismay publicly. Speaking of which, it was high time that Hector spoke with Oswin regarding Uther's status. While it was not uncommon for Hector himself to go weeks on end without even a scrap of correspondence, Uther typically found ways to contact Oswin periodically. Fighting down his unease, the younger Ostian lord could not recall when was the last time Oswin spoke of his brother.

"Oswin! Where the devil is he?"

"Last I checked, he was at the gate with Matthew," Farina called out as she trailed behind her two sisters. The pegasi sisters had opted to dismount and lead their docile mounts on foot. Wyverns were well known to charge blindly ahead regardless of any possible dangers, but pegasi suffered from a fault that their distant cousins on foot did. Namely, horses and pegasi shied easily from the unknown. Though difficult to dislodge the loyalty and trust between rider and mount, knights and riders often found that their traveling partners were afraid of charging recklessly into the darkness. Given that tonight was a mission focusing on silence and swiftness, Fiora had suggested that the sisters lead their pegasi by foot.

Lyn caught the sound of armor plates clashing against one another, "Wait, is that him?"

Sure enough, an armored knight emerged clanking out of the darkness, his face obscured by a massive warhelm. Hector was about to hail his trusted vassal when the knight spoke in an accent distinctively different from an Ostian.

"Ah, Castle Caelin at last," the knight boomed, "Wait, I could've sworn the last village said this was Bern… Bah, who cares?" Without another word, the clanking monstrosity disappeared into the darkness again.

Sain's jaw dropped, "You're kidding me… General Wallace?"

His words were too late, as testified by the receding sounds of armor. Interestingly, not even a single royal guard challenged the aging knight.

"Odd," Cecilia noted, "There are no soldiers on duty! The prince's coming of age ceremony is tomorrow, and yet no one is concerned that some would-be assassin waltzes in and puts a dagger in the royal heir?"

"That's because they're all dead."

Cecilia, Lyn and Hector all jumped at the sudden outburst behind them. Turning slightly, their eyes fell upon a tall, lanky swordsman running a thin finger over his saber. What truly gave them pause, however, was the bloodthirsty glint that radiated from his fearsome eyes. The only person that could've matched such a thinly veiled insanity had been Mark, and Mark scarcely showed that side of him unless absolutely necessary.

Lyn sighed slightly, "Hector, Cecilia, I understand that introductions are a little late, but please meet Karel. Mark and I chanced upon him during our brief assault when retrieving the Fire Emblem."

Ill-at-ease, Hector nodded, "Well met, swordsman. However, you alluded to that all the guards are dead?"

"Of course," Karel replied lazily, as if the matter held no consequence to them, "There are only two possibilities in this situation. Looking at this from a slayer's point of view, the innumerous guards surrounding Zephidel must have either been recalled to another location, or simply put down by the invading scum. Either way, we'll be dealing with a horde of man flesh simply begging me to carve into pieces." He grinned demonically at the thought.

Cecilia blanched at those words as she thought back to Mark's earlier suggestion. The lords had, heeding his advice, divided the group into three parties. Eliwood led one squad down the left flank, Hector and Lyn through the right, leaving Pent holding a defensive position in a sheltered forest area a mile or two west of the palace. The Mage General had conversed briefly with the General of Death before departing to their assigned duties. Lyn, recognizing the need for speed, had delegated Matthew, Kent, Sain, and the three pegasi sisters to enter first, aiming to reach the prince without further delay. Hector and herself would follow with the slightly slower infantry. Oswin had moved ahead merely to secure the gate for their arrival after Matthew worked his magic on the locks.

Hector grimaced, "Then we better hurry if we don't want to come upon a certain prince chopped into fish bait."

* * *

Maxime had run across the same problem that many of Jaffar's victims came upon. Namely, the Angel of Death was simply too damn tough to beat in the shadowy darkness. Fully five dozen men had chased after the one-time Four Fang member, and nearly a quarter of that number lay dead or dying in the long corridor. Though the rest stayed gamely on the assassin's trail, many of the pursuers were hesitant to grapple with the man who slew as easily as an illusive phantom.

Even so, the man was tiring slightly. When the chase began, Jaffar slew silently and efficiently, dispatching man after man with flawless ease. Now, as the chase drew longer and longer, faint gasps for breath echoed slightly down the hall, forcing the Angel of Death to abandon the shadowy walls and actually fight several of his pursuers without the cover of darkness. Every one of the Black Fang warriors under Maxime's command knew their prey would inevitably perish in their nets, but they were also aware that their prey might very well take two-thirds of them _with_ him into death. No one volunteered to have their height shortened by a head.

"Curses," Maxime spat, "Where the devil is Schoft and his men? I told them to sweep around the upper corridor and corner this man between us!"

"They did take the longer route," one of his men panted, "They should be in position shortly."

Jaffar turned a corner and vanished. Desperate not to lose the trail and eager to claim the glory of slaying the vaunted Angel of Death, Maxime and his warriors pelted after their target. Before they could round the corner, shouts of surprise and the scuffle of battle reached their ears.

"Finally," Maxime scoffed, "Where the devil were they anyways?"

Being the first man to round the corner always had its nasty surprises, as Maxime found out to his eternal dismay. As his stallion set hoof across the threshold of the hallway corner, a well-timed sword stroke parted appendage from beast. Screaming with pain, the horse spilled Maxime from the saddle. Tumbling to the ground, the dazed knight drew his sword and readied his shield just in time to stop a mighty blow from a blond-haired warrior.

"Harken?" Maxime gasped, "The devil are you doing here?"

"Righting my wrongs and repenting of my sins," the other knight replied as he blocked Maxime's counter with his own shield.

"Hmph, to think that I actually gave you credit for brains when you ditched Lord Elbert and joined us."

"I broke my vows to avenge my liege lord," Harken thundered, a righteous flame flickering in his eyes, "I have rejoined Pherae and shall start my reign of vengeance with you!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Maxime saw that Harken was not alone. Several cavaliers, fighters and swordsmen were in working in a concerted effort to systematically eliminate the Black Fang troops. Schoft lay motionless in a pool of his own blood along with several of his most trusted men. Apparently, this group of self-righteous pieces of horse manure ambushed Schoft's crew just as they made contact with Jaffar.

Harken took advantage of his opponent's momentary distraction to deliver a furious flash at Maxime's head. Seeing the powerful blow at the last moment, Maxime managed to twist sideways to dodge the fatal blow. Raising his shield, Maxime smashed the wooden wall into Harken's face, causing the knight to reel backwards in pain. Throwing his shield aside, Maxime raised his sword with both hands and was about to deliver a blow that would've clove Harken in two had not someone else took interest in the fray.

The sound of galloping hooves betrayed the rider's intent to Maxime. He turned to see a mounted cavalier with streaming blue hair stampeding towards him with lance outstretched. Ordinarily, Maxime would have no problem dodging such an obvious rush, but Harken's sword slightly complicated things. The Pheraen knight swung his sword while still lying aground, catching Maxime in the back of his left knee. Keeling over with a shriek, there was little the false knight could do save watch as the vengeful female paladin stab downwards into his chest.

* * *

"Whew, that appears to be all of them," Eliwood panted as he leaned on his sword, "Harken, are you alright?"

Said knight was being helped to his feet by Isadora, "Yes, milord."

"I wonder why the Black Fang was so utterly uninterested in our approach," Mark mused aloud, "They seem to be in pursuit of something?"

"I agree," Raven said, "They're too far away from Zephidel's chambers, at least according to the map we obtained."

"Could the prince have escaped the trap?" Lucius wondered.

"Unlikely," Mark shook his head, "If he had an ounce of sense, he'd stay in his quarters and wait out the siege. Out here, with no guards to come to his aid, Prince Zephidel would be a walking target for the innumerous Black Fang assassins. No, he'd be better off staying in his room and hope for reinforcements."

"Then they were chasing him?" Raven pointed at Jaffar.

"I'm not sure…" Approaching footsteps cut off Eliwood's comment.

Legault into the corridor, "The other division has made contact outside the prince's room, and we…"

Without a word, Jaffar leapt at Legault with knives bared. Caught off guard, the Hurricane barely managed to block the attack with the hilt of his sword and it was man-to-man as the two ex-Black Fang members clashed. Jaffar had recognized the legendary Black Fang 'house-cleaner' immediately, but Legault was unaware of his opponent's identity until they exchanged a few blows. Legault had regularly exchanged bouts with the Four Fangs and Uhai in years previous, and recognized Jaffar's blade work.

"Jaffar!" Legault called out, "Wait, it's not how it seems…" He ducked as one of Jaffar's blades nearly split his face in two.

_That's torn it, _Legault thought, _Jaffar doesn't know I deserted the Black Fang! He's mistaking me for another pursuer after his hide! How the bloody hell do I make him understand that I'm on his side?_

Marcus grabbed his lance and motioned for Lowen to follow. Two lance-wielding cavaliers would easily divide the battlers until everything could be explained. Lowen reached for his lance that was leaning against the wall, but was shocked to find the weapon missing.

Jaffar pressed his attack, neatly knocking aside Legault's blade and stabbing at the thief's throat with the other fatal edge. The knife would've split Legault's throat in half had not the sound of steel swinging through the air alerted Jaffar to the danger behind him.

Turning, the Angel of Death parried, confident that one hand was sufficient to block the enemy weapon. To his surprise, his left arm was jarred numb as the lance twisted his arm around and the force of the blow knocked him away from the disarmed Legault. Spinning completely around, Jaffar held both his knives before him as he surveyed his new foe with wide eyes. He was not the only one.

Everyone in the room was staring in disbelief as Mark stood with lance poised and a shed cloak wrapped around his left arm before trailing to the ground below. Scarcely giving the assassin pause, the tactician sprang forward and delivered a powerful one-armed thrust that Jaffar barely deflected.

Normally, in close quarters Jaffar would have the advantage, as a large lance was unwieldy at close range. However, Mark never let up on the offensive, stabbing left and right with lance point and butt. It was then that Jaffar noticed his opponent's handle on the weapon was that of a quarterstaff, gripping the lance near the middle as to deliver knockout blows from either end. Stab, slash, counter, sweep, thrust, and parry were all performed to perfection. Neither tactician nor assassin injured one another, but Mark was steadily pushing Jaffar back until the assassin stood with his back to the wall. Pushing off the wall, Jaffar stabbed forward with both knives, but his attack was blunted when Mark held his weapon sideways and blocked both attacks. Gripping the lance with his left hand in the middle again, Mark ducked down and in before landing a furious punch in Jaffar's middle. Unconscious, the Angel of Death collapsed without another sound.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Hector massaged his temples, "Wallace mistook this Nino girl for Lyn and 'announced' to the Black Fang of our current location?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much the run of it," Matthew chipped in, "Then again, Wallace and Oswin pretty much have the entryway to the prince's room covered."

"So now we have custody of this ex-Black Fang member and secured the entrance to the prince's room?" Cecilia asked.

"He doesn't know who is trying to save his life, but that's fine by me," Lyn said as she cleaned her sword, "He probably concluded that the imperial guards finally arrived."

"I agree," Cecilia said, "But we're still gambling that Eliwood will arrive shortly before we're overrun. Sending a swift force to decapitate the enemy leader may prove useful, but it leaves us severely outnumbered here."

As if to prove her words, a fresh wave of Black Fang warriors scrambled to grapple with the prince's defenders. Behind this wall of steel and flesh, the clatter of hooves could be heard upon the hard, marble floor.

"Cavalry?" Cecilia murmured in dismay before correcting herself, "No, a valkyrie I believe…"

Before Cecilia even finished speaking, said valkyrie raised her hands and fired a trio of spells into the midst of battle. One ill-fated Black Fang ax man was fried to crisp while the other two spells sent the combatants diving for cover. One smashed into a stone pillar's foundation, threatening to level the entire column. The other splashed into the wall not two feet above Oswin's war helm. Quick as a shadow, the caster faded into the crowds again, biding her time for another sniping attempt.

Capitalizing on the confusion, several squads of Black Fang elites charged the beleaguered defenders. Ursula's brief interruption had thrown Hector and his companions off balance, leaving a prime opportunity for the assassins to remove any obstacle on their way to the prince. In the furious melee that followed, both Hector and Lyn were wounded, Wil lost his bow to an enemy mage, leaving Wallace and Oswin far too busy trying to hold the pass.

Fortune, however, tends to bestow her favor upon the bold. Out of the dimness of the shadows, five mounted warriors came to the rescue. Kent and Sain drew first blood, directing their fiery steeds to charge straight into the unprotected right flank of their foes. Above them, the three pegasi sisters soared over the melee to strike at the completely unprepared archers and casters that made up the support lines for the Black Fang. In a flurry of feathers, jabbing spears and striking hooves, Florina and Fiora scattered the archers while the hapless mages fled from a wrathful Farina.

As the survivors turned their attention upon this new set of enemies, they made the unfortunate mistake of leaving their backs completely unguarded. They were mercifully unaware of their doom, at least until Eliwood and his force smashed into them with the fury of a thunderbolt. Caught between superior forces on three different sides, the Black Fang warriors valiantly tried to hold the line for a brief moment before abandoning armor and arms in flight. Marcus rallied the other cavaliers to him, and, with the aid of Heath and the pegasi sisters, proceeded to scour the Sunset Palace of the Black Fang infestation.

Ursula, seeing that defeat was inevitable and the opportunity lost, retreated swiftly and quietly from the crowd. Urging her pony to a light gallop, she veered away from the primary rear entrance of the palace and approached a more secular side entrance. Earlier in the evening, Ursula had led her troops through the back entrance after King Desmond provided an excuse to lure away General Murdock and the majority of the guards.

"Hmph, the brainless twits will lead those damnable Lycian lords to the other exit while I can make my escape here," she scoffed.

As she neared the threshold, Ursula could feel an odd chill that ran up the back of her spine. Turning around slowly, she saw nothing amiss before seeing a teleportation rune appear on the ground just outside of the palace grounds. Out of the rune strode Limstella, one of Nergal's prize pets.

_It's only her_, Ursula let out a sigh of relief, _though I understand the price of failure, I still need to make my report…_

A stab of pain shot through her veins like lightning, and Ursula beheld a slim katana that seemed to grow out of her chest. With nary a sound, a pale, dark-haired swordsman had dropped out of the alcoves above, landed silently behind her, and slew one of the Four Fangs with ease.

As she toppled from the saddle, Ursula could barely make out the man's words, "Pathetic. Here I thought the enemy commander would surely give me a mighty brawl worthy of my sword…" She could not make out any further words as the man swiftly departed.

"Such wonderful quintessence."

_Such a pitiful end_, Sonia thought as she expired, "Lady… Sonia…"

* * *

"Karel just came in," Matthew reported to the assembled lords and tacticians, "The enemy leader, Ursula of the Four Fangs, is no more."

"Our primary objectives have been completed," Mark said dispassionately, "The only thing that remains is to retreat from the Sunset Palace without exciting the notice of any Bern soldiers."

"That's true," Eliwood admitted, "It'd be quite a scandal if Bern's royal guard walked into the palace and found dead bodies everywhere with signs that Lycian troops participated in the battle."

"Oh, and by the way…" Matthew started.

"What are we going to do with Nino and Jaffar?" Cecilia asked, "They have both left the Fang, but to take them along with us?"

"Impossible," Hector said flatly, "Jaffar is responsible for Leila's death, and I mean to have him killed in her name."

"Excuse me, but I'd have dibs on him," Matthew interrupted again, "But I'd also like to point out that both Nino and Jaffar are no longer with us!"

That got their attention. "What do you mean?" Lyn asked.

"They left," Matthew said, "Bound for some unknown destination."

Hector cursed, "Damn it all! Now they're out of reach!"

"Not quite," Lyn corrected, "Remember, we did speak with Nino earlier during the battle, and she seemed quite distraught that her mother actually ordered her death. If I were her, I'd seek out the truth of those words."

"That doesn't help very much," Hector shot back, "We don't know where the hell Sonia is!"

"Pent does," Mark said calmly.

Cecilia realized why her mentors were deep in conversation before, "Lord Pent was never supposed to wait for our return," she said aloud, "Instead, he was to lead his taskforce and pursue any Black Fang stragglers!"

"And given that we eradicated the majority of the escapists," Eliwood caught on, "Nino and Jaffar would be the only two that would exit in the direction where we came from!"

"I'd advise checking in with Florina, Fiora, Farina, and Heath," Mark yawned, "Traveling by air is much more advisable than moving by horse."

"Cecilia, Eliwood, Lyn, come on!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow, "I see that you weren't invited along."

Mark traded him look for look, "And you were?"

"Hey, I'm not the one whose loyalty is in question."

'And I'm not the one who grasps his dagger and vows vengeance whenever Jaffar's name is mentioned."

"Touché."

* * *

Nino didn't know which was worse; being told that your mother wanted your head on a silver platter or returning to her and asking for the truth of it all. Frankly speaking, she'd be scared witless if Jaffar wasn't alongside her. Truth be told, the Angel of Death wasn't exactly the most sociable of companions, but at the very least he made sure no one was going to harm her.

The Water Temple where they would find Sonia was not a temple in the slightest. Instead, the entrance was cunningly concealed behind a large water fountain that lay in the town square of Mantris, a major town in rural Bern. In the bygone ages, earliest people that populated this area worshipped a lesser-known goddess named Talmina, who supposedly blessed their harvests with bountiful, life-nurturing rain and kept the harmful floods away. Many years after these people left, the people of Bern renovated the foundations and turned the location into a public fountain, from which the townspeople could draw a fresh supply of water. Unknown to the average citizen, the foundations were kept largely intact, and the secret place of worship was never revealed. The Black Fang, seeing that the ancient chamber was largely untouched and unmolested, converted the 'temple' for their own needs.

The original worshippers also had a curious ritual that they performed annually in Talmina's name. Designed by an ingenious architect, the chamber was slightly flooded with water and possessed paths that raised or sank at regular intervals. During festivals, youths were encouraged to attempt a dry crossing over these rising and sinking platforms. Those that passed this test were said to be blessed by Talmina herself. The Black Fang laughed at this ritual, but took advantage of the platforms as a natural defensive system. The Black Fang members who were privy to the secrets of this temple naturally memorized the pattern to which the platforms rose and fall. Certainly it'd not do to be trapped or encumbered by one's own defenses!

Along the way here, Jaffar could not shake the feeling that they were being followed. He doubled back a few times to check for pursuers, but was unable to find anyone in the darkness. Not wishing to alarm Nino, he had kept the search attempts brief and few in between.

As the pair moved swiftly over the platforms, Jaffar noted several heads bobbing in and out of the water. Anticipating Black Fang pirates waiting in ambush, the assassin never relinquished the tight hold on his twin daggers. Curiously, the bobbing heads dipped into the water, and then never rose again. Jaffar would never know that Dart and Geitz, both seasoned pirates in their own right, had been clearing out the little groups of unsuspecting pirates. Sure, the water warriors of the Fang were not idiots, but they were concentrating on the pair walking nimbly over the platforms and certainly not peering into 'friendly' waters looking for hostiles. Since he was not an adept swimmer, Jaffar chose to leave the mystery alone and focus on accompanying Nino.

Upon reaching the central platform within the chamber, of which a statue of Talmina still stood, Nino was in for a rude shock. Rolling down the small flight of stairs was the corpse of her father Brendan Reed. And strolling down the same stairs with Limstella at her back was none other than Sonia herself.

"Monster," Nino sobbed, "How could you do this to him? How could you do this to me?"

"Because you were filth," Sonia sneered, "Garbage that had to be removed for the glory of Lord Nergal. I see you are a failure at dying quietly, just as you are a failure in everything else."

"Nino is not a failure," Jaffar said emotionlessly, "But I promised her I'd kill you personally."

"Hm, I suppose not," Sonia said dismissively, "Being able to subvert Lord Nergal's toy, the Angel of Death! Quite a feat I suppose, but it matters little since both of you will die here. Limstella!"

The morph strode forward.

"Take this miserable piece of flesh away," Sonia gestured at Brendan's carcass, "The very sight of him is blasphemy to the perfection that I embody."

As the morph complied, Nino shouted in despair, "Why? Why do you do this when I am your flesh and blood?"

"Flesh and blood? You?" Sonia laughed, "You were naught but a babe whose family was laid to waste by Lord Nergal. They guarded the secret to the dragons and refused to divulge this information to me. So I killed them and kept you alive only because Lord Nergal believed you'd be of some use. He was, for once, wrong."

Jaffar unsheathed his blades and Nino drew forth an Elfire tome. "You're no perfect being! You're a monster in human form! I will show you no mercy!"

"Monster?" Sonia shrieked as she leveled a Fimbulvetr spell at Nino, who was whisked aside by Jaffar, "I will have your head for that, whelp!"

A fearsome magic battle began at those words. Elfire and Fimbulvetr spells spat back and forth, some slicing into the waters, others shattering venerable stone, and still others detonating in the ceiling. Sonia was no fool in battle, and well noted that while Nino was a somewhat competent magician, her skills paled in comparison to Jaffar. The Angel of Death was a fearsome foe in his own right, but so long as Sonia could keep him at a distance with magic, the battle would be far easier.

Nino, on the other hand, had scarcely tasted actual combat. There were quite a few instances where Jaffar was forced to halt his own attack and dash back to pull the young girl out of harm's way. It was during one of these attempts that Sonia, seeing Jaffar's distracted state, flung a second Fimbulvetr spell near the assassin's feet. While the man succeeded in pushing Nino away, the ice spell impacted on the ground around him and encased his legs in a solid block of ice.

"Jaffar!"

"Ha, foolish mortals!" Sonia panted slightly in exertion, "You were idiots to think even your combined strength could stand against me! Guards, take them away!"

"That might be difficult."

Sonia barely managed to twist aside as a hand ax imbedded itself into wall where she stood but moments before. Turning around, she saw eight fighters and spell casters on the central platform scarcely a dozen feet away, three of which appeared to be Lycian lords. During the heat of battle, neither of them had noticed that observers were present.

"Geitz, Dart, and Hawkeye sort of dealt with your morphs already," a teal-haired mage informed Sonia.

"And now I'll even this battle," a gray-haired sage said, "Nino, go for the legs!"

Sage and mage both directed Elfire spells at Sonia. Taking a deep breath, Sonia could've laughed aloud when she saw Nino's haphazardly fired spell miss her by the tiniest of fractions.

"Feh, to even think your spell can match mine," Sonia gloated at the sage when she countered, only to find the two spells canceling each other.

"You underestimate me," the sage smiled slightly at Sonia's surprise, "I am Pent, Mage General of Etruria, and you will not find me easy prey."

"The Mage General-" Sonia spat out blood as her words were cut short by a pair of sharp knives piercing her back, "Wha-?"

"I promised Nino that I'd kill you personally," Jaffar let the dying Sonia slide slowly to floor before he sheathed the twin daggers, "And now I fulfill that vow."

"Im… Impossible…" Sonia gasped, "I… I… am… per… perfect…"

"Perfectly dead," Pent said in disgust.

The golden eyes darted a hateful glare at Pent before slowing gazing off into infinity.

* * *

_Chapter complete, I apologize for the delay. Thank you for reading and please review if you're able to spare the time._


	21. Last Man Standing

_Author's Corner:_

_Hello, everyone! I'm a few days behind schedule, so please forgive me. Once again I humbly thank all who sent in their kind and encouraging reviews. Everyone please read and review if you have the time!_

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* * *

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**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 20 **

**Last Man Standing**

_July 2nd, Castle Bern,_

_I lost count of the people with black bags under their eyes this morning. It seems that everyone either slept for less than two candle marks (the majority), cried for more than two candle marks (a select few), or somehow are running on overdrive without the need for sleep (namely Mark and Karel). Now Karel I can understand, given his somewhat lack of sanity when it comes to killing people, but Mark? He sat brooding on the fringes of camp for several hours after our excursion at the Sunset Palace, and yet he shows no sign of weariness? Recently, the only things he has been doing are brooding and scribbling leaflet after leaflet in his books!_

"Frankly speaking," Cecilia began, "We are hardly in any shape for another battle."

At the crack of dawn, Pent, Louise, and the lords ventured towards Castle Bern in hopes of attaining an audience with Queen Helena as soon as possible. While it would've saved much time in speaking with the queen at Sunset Palace, their very presence in such a 'heavily' guarded area would raise questions. Instead, Pent had suggested that this meeting be guided through the proper diplomatic routes, albeit losing precious time in the process. Since Cecilia was still the tactician in command, she was obligated to brief the higher-ranked vassals such as Oswin, Marcus, and Wallace. During the absence of the three Lycian lords, those three served as their liege lord's replacement while Cecilia controlled the mercenaries.

"The army is simply too exhausted at the moment," Marcus agreed, "If we were forced into another pitched battle, we may not be able to hold the line."

"Not to mention the size of the enemy forces," Oswin pointed out, "Throughout our engagements in Elibe, we've typically been outnumbered drastically. Outclassed and with insufficient rest, the strain would prove too much for our comrades."

Wallace frowned slightly and was about to ask a question, but thought better of it, "For shame, the old times are passing. There used to be an era where men-at-arms could march miles on end and still be ready for an ugly scrap or two."

"All of us are not as hardy as you are, General Wallace," Marcus chuckled.

"Exhaustion isn't the only issue," Cecilia reminded them, "Remember, our objective is the Shrine of Seals, one of the most sacred sanctuaries in all of Bern. I wouldn't put it past the Bern Army or the remnants of the Black Fang to hound us all the way there!"

"Fortunately, we won't have to deal with Bern's military."

Cecilia and the three retainers bowed slightly as Pent led the other lords into the command tent.

"Our admission was earlier than we had expected," Eliwood explained, "Apparently, someone got hold of the queen and informed her of the troubling situation last night."

"Which was fortunate," Hector added, "After understanding that we were responsible for her son's safety, the queen was all to willing to yield the location of the Shrine. As an added bonus, Queen Helena was most generous in ensuring that the Bern armies will not interrupt our march."

Lyn handed a manuscript to Cecilia and grimaced, "There is still the small matter that our destination is still a good two days march away."

Cecilia shook her head, "Then we'll slow down our pace. Make the journey in three days and catch a little breather in between. In the meantime, Legault and Matthew can scout out any resistance we could possibly encounter."

"Resistance?" Hector asked incredulously, "The Bern Army isn't going anywhere!"

"Not them," Cecilia said, "I talked with Mark earlier, and the two of us agree that the Black Fang will be most pleased that we defeated three of the Four Fangs, slew Sonia, and possibly caused the death of Brendan Reed…"

Eliwood winced, "I doubt that we could settle the matter peacefully…"

* * *

_July 4th, roughly 10 miles from the Shrine of Seals,_

_It appears that the news Legault and Matthew brought back caused quite a commotion. Even from the fringes of our base camp, the uproar was loud enough to disturb my writings. Talk about trying to find some peace and quiet… Quite a few times in the past day or so, I've attempted to bid farewell to this merry little group, and each time I was stopped no more than half a dozen yards from camp. It was predictable that Cecilia and Lyn stopped me, but this morning I was appalled to find Lord Eliwood standing at my tent flap and telling me that if I ever left the army, he'd personally drag me back. Since the skirmish at the Sunset Palace, Lord Eliwood appears to be more receptive to my presence, but I have yet to truly gain Lord Hector's trust. A perilous warrior, that Hector is, but I fear that his Ostian background bred too much brawn and not enough brains. All in all, this is quite confusing. If they do not wish for my presence, why do they keep me here?_

"Mark," Raven tapped the tactician on the shoulder, "What news do you think Legault and Matthew came back with?"

While partitions of the army under Eliwood and Hector's command still held Mark in questionable regard, the majority of Lyn's group and a few mercenaries were still on speaking terms with their tactician. At this question, Wil, who was under Lyn's orders to keep an eye on Mark, stopped whittling arrows, Sain looked up from his disturbed nap, and Lucius closed his book, both interested in the tactician's reply.

Mark stopped scratching the manuscript with a feathered pen, "I would say that the two thieves returned with an enemy head count several times larger than our entire force combined."

"Black Fang?" Wil asked.

"Undoubtedly," the scratching noise continued, "And this time they'll be out for blood."

"True," Sain nodded, "In the past, they more or less saw it as a duty to take us out. Now that we've caused the deaths of several high ranking members including their leader…"

"It's no longer a duty," Mark replied without looking up from his writing, "It has turned into a debt of blood."

"How many do you think will be at the Shrine of Seals?" Lucius asked calmly.

"All of them."

Everyone stared at him, "What?"

"You heard me," Mark dipped the pen into a small ink bottle, "There's no longer a reason to hold back. Linus, Uhai, Ursula, Sonia, and Brendan are dead. Jaffar, Nino, and Legault have left their ranks. Only the last of the Four Fangs remain, and I wager he pitched every Black Fang member in Bern into this last battle."

"I wouldn't put that past Lloyd," Legault said as he joined the conversation, "The command center isn't taking the news very well, given that the total head count is nearly two hundred Black Fang elites."

"Two hundred!" Wil gasped.

"Damn," Sain swore, "And this won't be a pack of rabble like our opponents in Laus. These guys will well nigh fight to the last drop of blood in their veins!"

"Exactly," Legault agreed, "And you haven't taken Lloyd into account. Some say that he is the greatest of the Four Fangs, even stronger than Jaffar in certain areas. It is common knowledge that Jaffar is the superior assassin, but I have yet to hear anyone match Lloyd in a fair, one-on-one duel."

That perked Raven's interest, "Really, is that so…"

"I heard that your skills are also top notch," Legault said to the red-haired mercenary, "But I think Lloyd's probably still a step or two ahead of you."

"Really now," Raven smirked grimly, "That I have to see first hand."

"Two hundred enemies," Sain thought aloud, "We can field at most around forty-odd fighters, leaving us outnumbered roughly four to one. Think we can pull this off?"

"We faced worse odds at Castle Laus," Wil supplied.

Legault snorted, "Different level of skill, different tactician. Laus at most fielded a pack of idiots for infantry, whereas the Black Fang's ground crew is roughly the equivalent of Bern's professional military. And who had the command at Laus?"

Everyone looked at their lost-in-thought tactician who was still engaged in writing a manuscript.

"What are you writing anyways?" Wil asked.

"Memoirs," came the reply, "For my retirement."

"We may all be permanently retired rather prematurely," Sain laughed mirthlessly.

* * *

_The next day…_

"Scouts reporting in," Slater said, "Master Lloyd, your orders?"

"Bring them here," Lloyd commanded from atop the steps leading to the Shrine of Seals. As Slater turned to execute his orders, Lloyd slowly pulled out the curved saber from its sheath. Holding the blade lightly in his right hand, Lloyd gazed down the slender blade as he recalled the oath he swore.

"Be at ease, brother," he said softly, "I shall rejoin you soon, bringing the heads of your murderers."

Once this blade gave way to thoughts of better days between siblings, now the weapon served only as a reminder of his brother's corpse. The sword was a gift from Linus on Lloyd's twentieth name day. It was a custom between the Reed brothers to stage a mock 'duel' annually on Lloyd's name day. Both were emerging as talented swordsmen, though Lloyd favored a level of finesse that was rivaled only by Linus' preference of brute strength. That day, the two had fought against one another for nearly three candle marks, neither able to land a sound blow to claim victory. Towards the end of the battle, Linus had accidentally shattered Lloyd's weapon, sending shards of the broken sword flying. One scored a small gash in Lloyd's scalp, a scar he bore to this day. After apologizing profusely, Linus offered the sword as both recompense and present.

Acknowledged reverently throughout the ranks of the Black Fang, the mighty Crimson Edge proved worthy of its title, for truly the edges shimmered with a red tint as if thirsting for guilty blood. Lloyd swore never to bathe its silvery edge in the blood of innocents, and until the advent of Sonia and Nergal, that vow held true. Though no one else ever commented upon it, Lloyd seemed to notice that the blade shown with a brilliant luster while he kept the vow, but its sheen had grown tarnished since Sonia spread her taint. Countless times, the Reed brothers were sent to eradicate scum or traitors, but where Lloyd once sought to understand their plight, now he only followed his father's orders. In a few instances, Lloyd had even questioned the morality of his slayings, but he heeded his illustrious father's commands to the letter, wherever the order originated from. Linus, loyal as he was, reveled at the prospect of challenging a worthy foe and never thought to question their father's judgment.

_Perhaps he reveled too much,_ Lloyd thought somberly, _and that hastened his fall. _ Regardless, most of the Black Fang elites who had nothing to hold them back were present at the Shrine of Seals. Others who had families or other needs to take care of were allowed to leave the organization, though they were welcomed back with open arms should the Black Fang prevail at the Shrine of Seals.

"Master Lloyd."

Lloyd snapped out of his thoughts, glancing up to see Slater and several members of the scouting party standing respectfully before him, "Make your report."

"We've corrected the situation, Master Lloyd," one of the scouts spoke up, "Some of us ran across one of the invaders yesterday, but failed to bring the man down. We feared that our presence and numbers would've caused the enemy to retreat, but they have acted on the contrary. The enemy will appear on the opposite of the river in less than four candle marks."

"So they weren't scared off by our numbers," Lloyd murmured, "Impressive."

"Fools," Slater said dismissively, "They'll bury their bones in foreign soil."

Lloyd nodded, "Send out guerillas and lure them into our main forces. Draw their primary army into our jaws and let their blood spill across this earth."

"Yes, sir!"

"Hold," Lloyd said as he unfurled a map, "Slater, take fifty men and conceal yourselves here," he gestured to the map, "When the shock troops draw the enemy into our melee range, sweep around their backs and scatter their auxiliaries."

"At once, Master Lloyd!"

* * *

It was near high noon when Eliwood and Lyn's vanguard corps arrived at the river separating them from the Shrine of Seals. Known as the Diason Brook, this water way was well known for its perilous rapids and swift waters. Matthew had sketched a hasty map of the surroundings the day previous while Legault, more experienced in the ways of the Black Fang, ventured ahead to investigate. He had run into a patrol not thirty yards beyond the river, and it was only due to his quick reflexes that Legault managed to escape. Careful probing later revealed that the Black Fang forces numbered anywhere between a full regiment of a hundred and fifty men to some two hundred odd fighters.

Half a candle mark later, the primary detachment arrived to find the vanguard clearing away the remnants of a brief skirmish. The vanguard consisted of Kent and Sain as the cavalry, Dorcas, Bartre, and Hawkeye as primary infantry, along with Wil, Rebecca, and Priscilla for support. Overhead, Heath was flying long distance scout, changing at regular intervals with Fiora. A small group of Black Fang scouts chanced to stumble into their midst, and a short but vicious brawl had ensued. Though the enemy had numbered but half a dozen men, their lack of mobility ensured that there was no escape. Fighting fiercely in despair, their cause was unfortunately doomed to begin with. With cavaliers driving in from the left, fliers crushing their right flank and bloody axes hacking away in the center, the hapless Fang warriors perished.

"They've become considerably bolder," Heath remarked as Cecilia and the lords reached the wounded vanguard.

"That they have," Wil grimaced as he staunched a cut on his right forearm while Rebecca left to find Serra, "In the past, I admit that they fought well, but this time they're blade work is as if they have nothing left to lose. Did you see the way the last guy dived at Sir Kent?"

"Yes, and that blow was less than a hair's breadth away from finding flesh," Hawkeye said, "And Dame Fiora came dangerously close to losing a leg."

"Good thing her pegasus shifted ahead of time," Heath agreed.

Eliwood frowned, "We're not going to have an easy time with this, are we?"

"And that was only a small crew of scouts," Hector said grimly, "Damn them all!"

Lyn, however, was noticing something else, "Cecilia, are you alright?"

It was then everyone noticed that their tactician was pale and trembling as Cecilia let a small scrap of paper slip through her numb fingers.

"I can't do this," Cecilia blurted out, "I can't! I simply cannot lead you into your deaths!"

Now it was Hector's turn to frown, "What are you talking about? You're a full-fledged tactician who earned her wings!"

Eliwood picked up the paper and read it, "Damn."

Hector and Lyn exchanged a look of dawning misgivings. Their friend simply _never_ swore, regardless of how difficult or impossible the situation was.

"What is the matter, Eliwood?" Lyn worked up the courage to ask.

"Wyverns," Eliwood said dismally, "Apparently hostile since they exchanged a few javelin throws with Farina not too far away. Farina managed to retreat safely, but there's no telling when they'll decide to crash into our rear."

"How many?"

"A full squadron," Cecilia said in a small voice, "Twelve veterans with one commander."

Heath swallowed, "We simply don't have the forces to deal with that! If we sit around and wait for the wyverns to arrive, the Black Fang may decide to charge us." He didn't need to elaborate on what would happen if the wyverns caught their little group in the middle of a fierce battle with the primary Black Fang detachment around the Shrine of Seals.

"Interesting, you believe that with your two hands it is possible to avert the catastrophe that Nergal poses, yet are unable to handle such a paltry obstacle."

Eliwood, Cecilia and Hector turned around at that voice. Lyn, on the other hand, just smiled slightly, as if all her problems were solved on the spot, "I was hoping you'd take some interest in our plight, Drake."

"You!" Hector said in disbelief, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Possibly to offer you a way out, Hector of Ostia," the Hammer of Terrascars said drolly, "Then again, you don't have to listen to my advice."

"What makes you think we'll-" Hector was interrupted as Eliwood dug an elbow into his ribs, "Eliwood?"

Eliwood fixed his gaze upon their first tactician, "Mark."

"Yes?" Came the reply.

"Are you fit to command this battle?"

Mark traded the Pheraen lord look for look, "Are you willing to put your lives into my hands?"

Eliwood blinked, "What?"

"If I ordered you to walk into a deathtrap with your heads held high," Mark continued, "Would you do it?"

"I…"

"My swords are yours to command, Drake," Lyn replied instantly.

"Lyn?" Hector asked, "Are you sure…"

"As are mine," Eliwood said with finality after a moment's pause, "Sword, vassals, life are yours to command."

"Damn it," Hector rasped, "Well, it'll never be said that Hector of Ostia left his friends to die alone and unaided," he threw his ax on the table before them, "You have the command, Mark. However, be warned: I do not trust you, and I never will. See to it that I don't find an excuse to mislay my ax somewhere between your neck and shoulders."

The tactician did not seem ruffled in the slightest, "Call to arms."

Moments later, every member of the war host was gathered before the command tent. Whatever distaste they had for the Hammer lay secondary to the commands of a liege lord. Evidently, whoever acted in the lords' name also acted with their authority and commanded a vassal's unconditional loyalty.

"It has been a long time since I stood before all of you as a commander," Mark started, "Yet necessity has drawn me out of retirement. Should any of you feel ill at ease to follow my orders, feel free to speak up. I will not hold it against you for your honesty."

Wallace grinned wolfishly, "Just give us the damn orders so we can go out there and hit something." Wallace, though never openly an advocate of Mark's predicament, was a soldier through and through. As a soldier, he thought it was preposterous to table a brilliant battle advisor and use the back-up advisor.

"Very well," Mark said calmly as he started drawing a coarse sketch of the surrounding terrain on the ground with a staff, "Bartre, Dorcas, Harken, Oswin, Wallace, Hawkeye, Geitz, Dart, and Lord Hector step forward." He was promptly obeyed.

"Lord Hector will command this squad," Mark went on, "Move your force ahead to the mouth of this valley, past yonder patch of forestry and actively seek out the enemy main force."

"That's not enough men," Hector said, "We'd be swallowed alive by the enemy onslaught."

"I cannot give you too large of a force," Mark replied as he gestured towards the forest at the mouth of the valley, "Look there!"

The dense foliage lay roughly three miles from the entrance to the valley. Overhead, a large flock of birds was circling atop the trees, though they never made an effort to land on the tree boughs.

"Birds are hesitant to land," Rath said quietly, "There are foes in the forest!"

"That's a fairly large batch of trees," Cecilia noted, "There could be anywhere between half a hundred to a hundred foes inside."

"They laid a trap for us," Lyn realized, "If we committed our entire force into battle, they'd sweep behind us and take our rear by storm."

"Exactly," Mark said, "The valley floor is narrow enough that only a company of roughly forty to fifty men can advance forward at any moment. Lord Hector and his command are to hold that position for two waves before pulling back. Do you understand?"

Hector nodded reluctantly, "Very well, since we're bait, let us be off!"

Mark waited until the ranks closed to accommodate for the missing soldiers before calling out, "Marcus, Lowen, Isadora, Kent, Sain, Farina, Fiora, Florina, Heath, Rath, forward!"

The assembled heavy horse moved forward. Marcus spoke up, "Your orders, Sir Mark?"

"Take this," Mark handed a parchment sealed in wax to Marcus, "Marcus, once you see a red flag flash twice from camp, you are to open these set of orders. We may not be able to finish off the entire enemy host, but we shall win the victory."

"What if the enemy should leave the forest and challenge Lord Hector's forces from behind before the signal?" Kent asked.

"They won't, because they want to catch the majority of our forces in the trap," Mark answered, "Besides, we will be the ones laying in ambush and not them."

"As you ordered," Marcus left with his detachment.

"Legault, Jaffar, Nino, Erk, Lord Pent," Mark said, "Lord Pent will command this squad, and I've already spoken with him regarding your sequence of commands."

Pent nodded, "It shall be done."

"The remaining forces shall stay in back," Mark instructed, "Divide our defenders into two groups, one led by Lord Eliwood and the other by Lady Lyndis. After we deal with the wyverns on our backs, this group shall also push into the valley with our forces. Guy, at my signal, raise the yellow or red banners."

"As ordered," Guy called out.

"Karel, Raven, Matthew, see me afterwards," Mark said as the group dispersed, "I have something different in mind for the three of you…"

* * *

Across the small plateau that made up the valley floor, a ring of bloodstained but determined warriors stood their ground. As Mark had guessed, the plateau only allowed one company of fifty men to challenge the group at any given moment. The first unlucky company threw themselves into combat but to their dismay, found their power broken like a torrent collapses against an indomitable tower. Many a foe fell before the mighty axes of Bartre, Dorcas, Geitz and Dart. Harken, living up to his reputation as one of Lord Elbert's chosen guard, repeatedly plunged into a crowd of snarling enemies, only to emerge virtually unscathed from a crowd of dead men. Sword, spear, and ax alike shattered themselves upon Oswin and Wallace's well-forged armor, their wielders scattered like ninepins when the ponderous lance swung level. Yet before the Guardian of the Desert and the future Ostian Lord all quailed. None that day could match their strength and dexterity. Hawkeye's cleaver parted armor, weapon and shield alike as if they were paper. Hector, shrugging off blows and arrows from all directions, was responsible for decapitating several key Black Fang sub-commanders in the melee.

Before long, the first company of the Black Fang fell back in disgrace, their pride stung by the valor of not a dozen people. Shattered beyond hope of rallying, this force melted away and blended into the second advancing company. Without giving the defenders pause, the second group charged forward and successfully thrust Hector's command back several yards. This company fought with a youthful ferocity unmatched by the prior, more ill-fated, group. For a few desperate moments, the outcome was in doubt, but the advent of reinforcements threw the scales in the defenders' favor. Heath dived into the enemy mass from behind while Florina, Fiora and Farina sent their lances ripping into the Black Fang's frontal ranks.

The Black Fang lines held briefly before Hector and Harken broke through. Then the slaughter commenced.

* * *

Slater grumbled as he shifted in his crouched position of cover. Staying in one place too long caused a soldier's body to suffer from pines and needles. Around him, his company was also edgy. Lloyd had given orders for Slater's command to hold position until the larger lump of the enemy forces was engaged with the Black Fang shock troops. Unfortunately, the enemy commander has only thrown scarcely a dozen armored men-at-arms into the fray, leaving a small posse of cavalry for reinforcements if need be. Slater considered sending additional scouts, but decided against it in order to conceal his troops' presence for as long as possible. The bushes to Slater's left rustled. Swiveling his helm, Slater saw through the corners of his eye slits that one of his men had returned to make a report.

"What news?" Slater asked.

"They're tough," the scout replied, "I saw the group in the valley throw back two charges from our boys. Didn't see any of their on the ground, just littered with our dead and dying."

"Any other troop movements?"

"Negative," came the reply, "Cavalry's just sitting tight and watching their mates getting pummeled."

Slater frowned, "Oh well, it'll be significantly easier if our main crew wipes out… What's the disturbance?"

Grunts of exertion and bodies scuffling around could be heard intermittently from the trees a dozen yards away. Apparently some busybody in the company decided that they had waited too long for glory.

"Tell them to hush up and stay under cover!" Slater hissed.

The scout vanished into the woods to carry out Slater's orders. A few seconds passed by and all was quiet. Slater, satisfied with the silence, resumed his vigil through the trees. Hearing a twig snap behind him, he didn't even bother raising his head to inquire.

"Gods preserve us…" a man to Slater's left murmured.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Slater turned to look, "Damn it."

The scout that Slater had sent but a few minutes ago was thrown haphazardly against a tree with a knife sticking out of his neck. The path were he just came from was splattered with the blood of half a dozen Black Fang ambushers who were themselves ambushed by an unknown foe.

"Arm yourselves!" Slater shouted, "Enemies…!"

The moment Slater tried to rouse his men from their stupor, the trees around them were simultaneously struck by a trio of fire spells. Aided by the low humidity of the unyielding Bern autumn, it was synonymous to striking a match to a pile of dry hay. In a flash, the once tranquil thicket had turned into a raging inferno.

Pandemonium raged unchecked throughout the ranks as more fire spells rained into the nearby trees, turning the once harmless arbors into ferocious demons of flame. In the madness that ensued from men trying to flee the flames, quite a few were trampled underfoot and perished. Slater, seeing that his command was doomed, hurried threw off his heavy plate mail, discarded his heavy lance and helm before fleeing in the opposite direction of the flickering embers.

Perhaps what was by far more dangerous than the hungry flames were the twin shadows of death that threaded through the conflagration with ease. A thief and an assassin slew man after man as the terrified Black Fang warriors tried to escape in vain. Seeing that the rout was complete, Legault and Jaffar swept through the flaming timbers with accomplished skill until they arrived beyond the choking fumes. Legault nodded towards the three mages that stood surveying their handiwork. Marcus and his group of cavalry provided an extra ring of defense should any hapless Black Fang fighter foolishly tried to attack the spell casters.

"Lord Pent?" Erk asked, "What next?"

"We're done here," Pent answered his pupil, "Now we must aid Lord Hector."

* * *

A squadron of wyvern riders tore through the clouds in quest of the Lycian lords' encampment. Unlike the green troops that followed her at Castle Bern, Vaida prudently took a squadron of battle-hardened veterans with her. Below, they spotted a large group of pavilions arranged in a semicircle with a ring of palisades around them.

"Palisades," Vaida scoffed, "Wooden planks are supposed to stop flying wyverns?"

Her troop laughed and jeered as they descended into the semicircle of pavilions. Within the semicircle itself, there stood a large central pavilion that was clearly the command tent. Recalling her previous experience with escapees, Vaida motioned for her group to surround the giant pavilion before charging in. Dismounting, Vaida entered the command tent with a naked blade in hand and two men behind her. To her fury, all they found was an empty tent with several pieces of paper scattered atop a table.

"Damn it!" Vaida screeched, "Search the maps and documents, perhaps we can find something."

As the two rifled through the stacks of uninteresting memos, Vaida noticed a scrap of paper caught underneath one of the legs of the tripod. Shouldering her men aside, Vaida shifted the table and swiped the scrap.

"Shit…"

"Commander?"

The paper read:

_**Mark Valshannar, High General of Etruria and Tacticial Advisor to the Lycian Lords will now formally accept your unconditional surrender.**_

Unfortunately for Vaida and her squadron, it wasn't until _after_ she finished the note that Vaida noticed the string that was attached to the bottom of the slip. A string that was now broken since she grabbed the paper from the floor…

With an audible crack, a blue, circular rune appeared on the ground and quickly grew with exponential speed. Quickly outstripping Vaida's shock, the rune enlarged itself until it encompassed the entire interior of the command tent. Shooting upwards from the ground, the light rune trapped Vaida and her soldiers within an unyielding magic barrier.

"Damn!" Vaida cursed.

One of her subordinates wasn't completely stupid, "Perhaps one of our allies outside can help us escape?"

"That would be quite impossible."

The giant pavilion was stripped away, leaving Vaida under the brilliant afternoon sun. Outside of the magic circle, her entire command save for her personal wyvern was slain. Her wyvern was currently trussed up like a turkey, being bound so securely that it could not stand on its own feet.

Vaida quickly took stock of her surroundings. Outside of the damnable light rune, several casters, archers and swordsmen were in attendance. Over near her bound flying transportation, a certain Eliwood and green-haired lady were speaking with two cloaked figures. If looks could kill, those four would be food for the crows already. Sensing a look of absolute loathing, the browned-haired individual turned to regard her calmly before speaking.

"As I said, I will now accept your unconditional surrender."

* * *

Nearly half a mile away, another surrender was in the making. Hector's group, after having its numbers bolstered with aerial, cavalry and magic support, was pushing the Black Fang warriors step-by-step out of the valley. Marcus and his division, composing the right arm of Hector's little army, was hammering their way deep into the left flank of the Black Fang formation. Overhead, Heath and the three sisters repeatedly performed strafing runs or occasionally launched a javelin or two. All in all, the Black Fang elites could've dealt with all these assaults if not for three minor technicalities. First, the difference in magic was simply devastating. With Pent, Nino and Erk directing spells wherever the Fang was thickly congregated, every step was a potentially life-threatening hazard. Second, the lack of space favored Hector and his comrades. This was proven earlier when a dozen men held back entire companies. And last but not least, Eliwood and Lyn had led their smaller force through a longer route before sneaking behind the oblivious enemy.

After a candle mark's worth of fierce melee, Eliwood, Lyn, and Hector met in the middle of the battle. All around them, faithful comrades, vassals and friends were locked in combat, though the tide was gradually tilting in their favor.

Hector nearly dropped his ax in exhaustion, "Damn it, my hand…"

"Numb, eh?" Eliwood grimaced, "Now you know how I feel whenever I had to block one of your haymakers during practice."

"Shaddup, you're not helping!"

Lyn panted lightly, but still wagged a finger at the two of them, "That's why you need to be swift enough to dodge all the attacks!"

Hector glared at Lyn before muttering underneath his breath, "Women…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he amended, "St. Elimine preserve us, she ran off!"

Eliwood nodded, "So should we. We have a battle to win!"

"By the way," Hector asked as the two friends plunged back into the fray, "Where did Matthew go?"

"Matthew?" Eliwood grunted as he spitted an axe man with his rapier, "Mark dispatched him with Karel and Raven somewhere."

* * *

Lloyd stopped polishing the Crimson Edge, "Come out, I know you're here."

To his left, a tall swordsman appeared with a thin katana held in hand. To his right, a mercenary with blood-red hair emerged with a long sword. A thief hung out by the shadows, seemingly not interested in the upcoming duel to the death.

"Keep me out of this," the thief called out, "My orders were only to see you guys here."

"I would never ask another man to do my killing for me, Matthew," the swordsman said lazily, "The thirst for battle runs in my veins."

"Easy, Karel," the mercenary said, "I called him first. If I fail…"

"I will kill you both, Raven," Karel said as he leaned against a tree to watch.

The mercenary winced, "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

Lloyd took stock of the three men in front of him. The thief was of little consequence, clearly more interested in gain rather than blood. The swordsman on the other hand…

_Karel, the Sword Demon,_ Lloyd thought to himself, _I heard that his swordsmanship is only rivaled by his thirst for blood. He is not one to be taken lightly. If I waste too much time and strength on the mercenary…_

Lloyd was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost failed to notice the long sword flying towards his face. Leaping back, he brought the Crimson Edge up in a high parry before staring at his opponent.

"I am your opponent now," Raven said softly, "Underestimate me and you may not live to regret it."

_Another one who boasts of considerable skill,_ Lloyd realized painfully, _he just doesn't flaunt it very well. _The two blades clashed and clanged against one another, each seeking a weakness.

"I looked for you on the field of battle," Raven spat as he swung.

Lloyd smiled thinly, "I was not there. The slaughter would've been frightful among your comrades if I was."

Abruptly, Lloyd's sword flashed out like lightning, nicking Raven on the left cheek. Completely unfazed, Raven delivered a ripping, double-handed blow that sent Lloyd leaping backwards. They clashed again, sword to sword and chest to chest, but Raven surprised his opponent by butting his head forward. Caught off guard, Lloyd was stunned for a moment, barely managing to stumble away from Raven's counter.

Lloyd could taste blood in his mouth, but he pulled himself together. The Crimson Edge flashed left and right, forcing the mercenary to parry. With a twist, Lloyd had the long sword twirling in the air away from its wielder. Squaring his shoulders, Lloyd lunged for the kill.

Red blood stained the venerable stone floor leading to the Shrine of Seals.

* * *

"Mark, as surely as the gods live, you have no peer in all of Elibe."

"It's been quite a while since I've heard you say that, Lord Hector," the tactician replied mildly.

"Heh," Hector grunted, "I still don't trust you."

"I'm not surprised," Cecilia said dryly.

"Oh yeah," Hector remembered, "Where the hell did you send Matthew anyways?"

Mark raised an eyebrow, "Do you need anything from him? I sent him to Lloyd of the Four Fangs."

"You did WHAT?" Lyn and Hector both shouted.

"Calm yourself," Cecilia chided, "Who said anything about fighting Lloyd?"

"Oh…"

"He was merely a guide for Karel and Raven," Mark said calmly, "Between the two of them, Lloyd will stand no chance. Hello, what's going on?"

A thunderous explosion knocked the four of them flat. Scrambling to their feet, Mark and Cecilia led the two lords in quest of the reason for the disturbance. A twenty yard radius where Eliwood's tent would normally stand was now charred black. Eliwood and Nils were unconscious near the scene of the explosion, and so was…

"Athos? Archsage Athos?" Cecilia asked.

"Eliwood!" Hector shouted, "The hell happened here?"

Athos shook his head sadly, "Nergal took one of the Children of Destiny."

Mark grimaced, "It would be asking too much for him to leave us in peace, right?"

* * *

To Lloyd's surprise, Raven wasn't exactly lying in a pool of his own blood. Instead, the mercenary had seized the Crimson Edge in both hands, hence why the blood dripped from the edge. The mercenary evidently learned some sort of basic hand-to-hand combat somewhere.

Lloyd caught wind of some sort of motion behind him. Before the man could sufficiently turn around, Karel delivered the finishing slash that stretched Lloyd across the stone floor.

Raven dropped the Crimson Edge from his bloody hands, "You couldn't act a little sooner, could you?"

Karel cleaned his sword on Lloyd's tunic, "I was hoping to get you both in that slash."

"Good thing I stepped back then," Raven winced.

A yawn captured their undivided attention. Matthew yawned again and stretched before getting back to his feet. The thief had the audacity to take a nap while one of his comrades was almost split in two!

"Oh, is he dead?" Matthew asked, "Good, now let's get back to camp. Lowen's on dinner duty again."

* * *

_Chapter complete, thank you for reading._


	22. Eye of the Storm

_Author's Corner:_

_As clarification, Nergal does appear at the very end of the Shrine of Seals mission in-game and snatches away Ninian. I merely decided to change the sequence of occurrences. Originally, I had found it odd that Nergal, with his all-encompassing 'wisdom' would venture off and chance a kidnapping with both Brammimond and Athos present, hence the reasoning for my little edit._

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 21**

**Eye of the Storm**

_July 2nd, near evening, within the Shrine of Seals,_

"Are you certain that the wyvern hag we left behind will cause no problems?" Hector asked as the five comrades followed the Archsage through a winding maze of tunnels and rooms.

After the barely-averted catastrophe that ultimately resulted in the loss of Ninian, Eliwood had remained disturbingly quiet, only managing to trail Athos' footsteps. Immediately behind him were the two tacticians, with Hector and Lyn bringing up the rear. Having been warned by Athos that they were treading upon holy ground, the group had respectfully sheathed their weapons and spoke no louder than whispers.

"She was completely subdued," Cecilia lied. _What he doesn't know, won't hurt him,_ she thought, _there's no need to tell him that she's currently a raging lynx prowling around in that tent._

Lyn smirked slightly at that comment, but didn't reveal Cecilia's facade, "There's a competent guard around her, Hector. Even if she managed to break free, her wyvern is bound so completely that no single person could unbind it."

Mark, like Eliwood, remained silent, but for an altogether different reason. Somewhere from this shrine, a rather peculiar smell was steadily growing stronger. _Odd, _the tactician mused, _this is undoubtedly an odor from something that is long…_

**"Who desecrates my sanctuary?"**

A pregnant silence over the group as a cloaked man emerged from the opposite shadows. His face was obscured by an overhanging hood that held a golden circlet atop the cloth.

"Friends," Athos answered calmly, "It has been a long time, Brammimond."

**"And why do you disturb my rest, Athos? Long has it been since we have parted company."**

"We come seeking the inheritance that Roland and Durban left behind when they finished their labors," Athos replied.

Brammimond paused, **"What use would the Archsage have of those items? Is the Scouring not finished? Do dragons threaten Elibe already?"**

"They might if we sit here talking," Hector said impatiently, "In order to stop Nergal from opening the Dragon's Gate, the old geezer here said you could help!"

"Please," Eliwood said at length, "For Ninian's sake…"

**"Dragon's Gate?" **Brammimond ignored their voices, choosing only to speak towards Athos, **"The ignorant worm fails to comprehend his very desire is at his very doorstep. What is he doing in Valor?"**

Lyn and Cecilia both started while Mark raised an eyebrow. "His voice," Lyn stammered, "How can this be…?"

"Brammimond has no sense of self," Athos explained, "His voices and personality changes to reflect whoever is speaking to him."

"Regardless, we need your assistance," Eliwood pleaded, "Lord Athos spoke earlier of the Divine Weapons of the Eight Heroes. Without them, we cannot prevail against Nergal!"

**"Foolish mortals, what do you know of their power? With your pathetic knowledge, you could very well unleash the second…"**

"Enough!" Athos raised his voice, "They do not need to know the sins we committed, Brammimond!"

"Sins?" The lords asked.

"Hush," Mark raised a hand, "That is beyond our level of comprehension."

Brammimond turned his hood towards the tactician, **"So I see a Valshannar survives to this day. You may still play a part in the coming trials and the end of this age, albeit in a form you never dreamed possible."**

"Brammimond…" Athos began.

**"Why ask for Blazing Sword of Roland when there exists a far greater weapon in this very shrine?" **Brammimond turned back towards Athos, **"The might of Exaccus far exceeds the strength of the Durandal."**

"The Sword of Seals is fated to be wielded by another," Athos responded, "Both of us have foreseen that fact, so why waste breath on it?"

Brammimond muttered a few words and the entire cavern was illuminated in a shimmering light. **"It is done. Now trouble me no more."**

Athos nodded before waving his staff and beginning the teleportation ritual. In front of them, Brammimond slowly turned around and shuffled away. Though the five behind him seemed reinvigorated and encouraged by the success of their interview, Athos remained troubled.

_Brammimond was always the most mysterious of the Eight, _the wizened Archsage thought, _but he never does something without purpose. Originally, when we invited him to join our ranks, Brammimond was the most reluctant to play the role of a savior. How does the battle against Nergal figure into his plans?_

As the intruders left his humble abode, Brammimond nodded slightly. _This Nergal is quite amusing. He discards the target easily within reach and prefers to stretch out his arms towards Valor. However, the opportunity to correct Hartmut's mercy is not yet ripened at this moment. I'll play along with Athos' plans for now…_

_

* * *

_

"Now that the seals are removed," Athos said, "We can safely recover the Durandal and Armads."

"The Blazing Sword and the Thunder Ax," Eliwood murmured.

The small group had made their way back to the base encampment. Spread out in a semi-circle around the hard-fought shrine, the army was largely recuperating from their strenuous battle earlier in the day. Buoyed by the flush of victory, it hardly needs to be said that morale was high and the atmosphere was positively electric. It must be owned that the stratagems and worries of the commanders had little to no place in a soldier's heart. In an average army, only the commander dwelt upon the impossibilities and challenges that awaited each task, while the rank and file soldier merely carried out orders. Since this army was quite a closely knit organization, its members shared the woes of their lords, but not necessarily in their entirety. They may be prone to think about the threat that Nergal poses, but hardly any more than that.

That was, in the honest opinions of Mark and Cecilia, a good thing. When only a small minority in the army holds all the cards in their hands, the majority can be spared the despair or grief that grasps the hearts of the leaders. The upcoming battles will be difficult enough, and complicating things would only thrust more obstacles into their path.

"But how are we to retrieve these two weapons?" Hector asked, "Granted, Roland was the founder of the Lycian League and the first lord of Ostia, but Armads…"

"The Berserker Durban hailed from the Western Isles," Mark said softly, "Within its network of caves, you'll undoubtedly find the Armads."

"That would be unnecessary," Athos said, "Since I'll be showing you its location. However," he raised a hand against the optimistic faces around him, "I will not accompany you in its retrieval. Ancient spirits of the Hero's vassals and comrades guard their treasures, and that shall be your final test."

"Bringing the entire army would not be beneficial," Cecilia said, "Too many people in a crowded environment would endanger allies more than enemies."

"That's true," Lyn replied, "Hector, Eliwood, and I are honor bound to attempt this quest, but the army…"

"The army," Mark replied, "Should make haste towards Ostia. While the lords and Archsage Athos begin their quest for the Legendary Weapons, Cecilia and I will lead the army back to Ostia. Our final destination being Valor, we can regroup and refit ourselves for the storming of Valor."

"You won't be coming with us?" Lyn asked.

Mark shook his head slowly, "I am not chosen as one who will wield a Legendary Weapon. Besides, this will be more of a test of will and strength rather than of mind. I would not be able to aid you very much." _Be warned and take care, Lyn of the Lorca._

_Fare thee well, Drake of Etruria, _Lyn nodded, "Then let us hasten to the Western Isles."

"We should take Nils with us as well," Eliwood said suddenly, "In case Nergal strikes again when Lord Athos is not with you in the camp."

"Agreed," Hector said, "Beware the talons of Nergal, you two. Now that we've shattered the Black Fang beyond repair, the only possible means he has remaining to him are his morphs."

"We will be safe once we enter Ostia," Cecilia answered, "After all, it is the Unconquered Castle, correct?"

Hector grinned, "We'll see you all in Ostia in roughly a week. Don't exhaust all the larders before we get there, understand?"

Eliwood smiled for the first time that afternoon, "As if that's possible without you, Hector. The gods know how much victuals you can shuffle before you're satisfied."

"What was that?"

Lyn and Cecilia both sighed, "Men…"

Athos chuckled lightly while Mark shook his head, "Sometimes, Lord Athos, I don't believe I know them."

* * *

_July 7th, near the border between Santaruz and Ostia,_

_We've made a record time so far, but I daresay that the lords will move across Elibe far quicker than we will. While we snails crawl across the earth, they get to fly through the skies at incredible speeds. Ah, the joys and wonders of teleportation…_

_Several days ago, my mentor unveiled to me the project he was painstakingly working on for the past few months. The lengthy journals and parchments contained the majority of his knowledge and tactical devices that he had accumulated over the years. Inside his cramped living quarters, a veritable stack of books was steadily growing taller. Mark confessed that he had been keeping the majority of his materials and manuscripts with Merlinus inside several large chests. I briefly wondered if Matthew or Legault might decide to help themselves to some of the journals, but decided against it. Which idiot would tamper with the belongings of someone who could veritably order the nosy busybody's death and carry out the sentence himself without batting an eyelid?_

_I was also fortunate enough to borrow a few books from Mark's extensive library! After a few moments of thoughtful consideration, he had pulled several gargantuan textbooks for me to mull over. Wait, was he joking when he said that I'd be old and gray by the time I finished them?_

"We're approximately half a day's march away from Ostia," Kent said aloud at the head of the small column. Cecilia had proposed a brief respite given their proximity to their destination, a proposal that was heartily agreed upon.

Marcus nodded as he reined in his steed, "Our course has been remarkable throughout this leg of the journey. I scarcely believed we managed to bypass Bern's border patrol so swiftly."

"That credit goes to Sir Mark," Lowen dismounted while pulling out a canteen and passing it around, "Though I must say he ran us ragged those couple of candle marks."

"Point taken," Sain grimaced at the memory, "Yet we did cause a large enough disturbance to entice their attention. It only involved several of us making ridiculous orders and spreading rumors at a dozen different towns."

"I believe you actually got a little carried away there," Kent raised an eyebrow at his boon companion, "Didn't you place an order for a thousand iron swords at Bacdemia?"

"A thousand swords?" Cecilia gasped, nearly dropping the proffered canteen.

Sain grinned cheekily, "Well, I got the point across. That poor blacksmith promptly took off and spread the word that an enemy army was coming this way!"

"I suppose you were indirectly helped by Isadora," Harken joined the conversation, "I recall she arrived before you and let slip rumors regarding a large scale bandit raid on the local towns."

"Tensions are naturally high when the prospect of war looms between two nations. It wasn't too surprising the poor villager acted in such a manner," Marcus frowned, "I sincerely hope that Bern didn't regard this nonexistent attack as a threat originating from Lycia. Although…"

"They'd be quite right in suspecting that!" Sain declared with a laugh.

"What Sir Marcus said should not be treated merely as a joke," a blue-haired cavalier took her place beside Harken, "Bern may retaliate by actively invading Lycia for our little charade!"

"A situation we'd all like to avoid, but thankfully is not within the realm of calculated possibilities."

The assembled group halted their actions and greeted their reinstated leader. Mark nodded briefly and motioned for everyone to remain at ease.

"The rationale behind this move lies in that Bern is physically incapable of launching a warfront at this moment," Mark went on, "Contrary to popular belief, Prince Zephidel's coming-of-age ceremony greatly restrains King Desmond's actions."

"Restrains?" Cecilia asked, "How so?"

Pent and Louise dropped in to answer that question, "Because the coming-of-age ceremony officially designates Prince Zephidel as King Desmond's heir to the throne," Louise supplied.

"Correct," Pent added, "Desmond's popularity and support pales in comparison to the hopes pinned on Zephidel. Should he launch a long and protracted war with Lycia that cannot ensure complete victory…"

"He'd be facing a potential civil war on his hands," Mark finished, "The king is afraid, deadly afraid that Zephidel would ascend the throne before Desmond has finished his reign."

Marcus nodded, "So father and son will be at each other's throats for a while, leaving the rest of Elibe in peace."

Cecilia relaxed at those words, "Then we best make haste to Ostia. A good night's rest without having to keep our weapons at hand would surely do all of us a world of good." Hearing her words, the meeting was adjourned as its members returned to their duties, leaving Pent, Louise, and Mark alone.

"Peace that will not last, I'm afraid," Mark shook his head.

Pent started at those words, "What?"

"It will not matter who prevails over the other," Mark replied in a chilling air, "When yonder dispute has been settled by words or by sword, war will march upon foreign lands."

"Why would Zephidel unleash the armies of Bern upon Elibe?" Louise asked, "None of the countries has caused him any harm."

"And why have the armies of Bern, hailed as the most powerful war machine on the face of Elibe lain dormant through nearly two generations?" Mark replied softly, "What are the kings of Bern saving their frenzied warriors for if not eagerly waiting for the perfect opportunity? Guard the doors of Etruria, Mage General."

Pent laughed, "They will not need my strength to lend aid to their swords. Douglas is faithful and stalwart as you know. Percival, though the youngest Knight General in the history of Etruria, will never suffer a foe to trample our fair homeland."

"Feh," the General of Death snorted, "You do not understand where the blow will fall, and there you will err. Heed my words, the collapse of Etruria will not be achieved by might, missile or magic, but through treachery only."

"Lord Valshannar," Louise said, "In such a dire hour, will you not return to Etruria with us? I'm certain that Lord Pent could arrange the restoration of your name."

Pent shook his head sadly, "Even if I raise my voice, I fear the eyes of Etruria are too blind to see past your history. You have changed, but they…"

Mark chuckled bitterly, "They still remember the butcher's bill, and will never rest until I've resolved that debt of blood."

A shrill cry interrupted the conversation, "Mark!"

The trio turned and beheld Florina crossing the skies at breakneck speed before executing a nimble landing. Spilling from the saddle, the girl was too chocked by tears to speak.

_If this is something trivial, I will roast whoever is responsible over a slow fire. _Mark sighed inwardly, "What is it?"

"The… The… lords…" Florina stammered through her tears, "L-Lyn and t-the others are already a-at Ostia!"

"What?" Mark glanced in the direction of Ostia before returning his gaze to the Pegasus knight before him, "Impossible, they were supposed to return tomorrow!"

"Did something happen to the lords?" Pent asked.

Mark groaned, "Tell me they didn't fail to retrieve the Legendary Weapons."

"I-It's…" Florina continued, "It's not that…"

"Then what is it?"

"N-Ninian is… d-dead!"

Louise paled, "Nergal…"

"No, it… it was…" Florina stared at her listeners briefly before blurting out, "Lord Eliwood!"

* * *

_July 7th, sunset at Ostia,_

_During the last leg of the march to Ostia, Cecilia commented on the decidedly subdued atmosphere that hung like a cloud over the army. It comes as no surprise, I suppose, given that such a close friend was taken from us and by the hand of Lord Eliwood no less! Reports were scant and few in between, and those that did come through were scarcely descriptive of the situation. Another detail that has garnered a significant portion of my attention is the matter of Oswin. Curiously, the closer he draws near to Ostia, the more agitated he becomes. Is it facing Lord Uther, Lord Hector, or a combination of both? Yet what could he possibly be dreading? Oswin has served both faithfully and bravely, so could possibly induce a knight to quiver so?_

Mark nearly dropped the journal he was scribbling at when he was tackled by someone the minute he entered Castle Ostia. Quickly turning his head slightly, Mark found a nearly hysterical Lyn with a death grip around his middle and sobbing into his back. The tactician tried to free himself from the embrace that pinned his arms to his sides, but to no avail.

_How does she always manage to catch me by surprise? _"Lyn…" Mark tried a different tactic, "There are quite a few people watching us."

Lyn loosened her grip, rubbing furiously at her eyes, "I'm sorry, it's just…"

_That hurt… _"Hush," Mark grimaced as he turned around completely, "It was painful enough to hear it, and witnessing the even would've been ten times worse."

"I'll be OK," Lyn tried to hold back her tears in vain, "But Nils and Eliwood…"

Mark clasped a hand over his eyes and sighed, "Don't tell me Nergal took Nils."

"He almost did," Lyn replied, "He and Lord Athos traded a few blows, with Lord Athos getting the worst of it. The black-hearted fiend then took off, claiming he did not wish to slay an old friend yet."

"Then since Nergal didn't capture Nils," Mark continued with his hand still over his eyes, "I'd suppose Nils is currently in a state of shock and not replying to any form of communication while Lord Eliwood is currently in a state of utter depression that rivals the death of his father."

"Hector is currently trying to revive Eliwood while Lord Athos is watching over Nils," Lyn said, halting when she remembered a previous event, "You're not going to…"

"What? Knock some sense into Lord Eliwood?" Mark shook his head, "Nothing I say or do will shake him from the conviction that he killed the girl he loved with his own two hands. Even if he doesn't condemn himself, one look at Nils is sufficient."

"What the hell do you mean that Lord Uther isn't available?"

The two turned to see an enraged Hector on the verge of strangling a guard. Catching a nod from Mark, several members of the army including Dart, Geitz, Bartre and Dorcas managed to restrain the furious lord.

"Oswin!" Hector roared, "Where are you?"

"Here, milord," the knight replied as he entered the courtyard.

"Where is my brother?" Hector yelled, "Why won't anyone tell me where he is?"

"Lord Uther is seeking recovery from his illness," Oswin replied calmly, "But…"

"Like hell he is!" Hector bit back, "It's been over a month since Matthew saw you receiving a letter from him, and Uther _never_ goes for long without any sort of correspondence."

"Lord Uther is seeking recovery from his illness," Oswin repeated, "But he did leave a letter for you that has been in my keeping for some time." The knight drew forth a tied wooden box, broke the seal, and drew forth a parchment.

The majority of the army had retired for the evening, leaving only Ostian guards and servants in attendance. With a curse, Hector dismissed everyone in the courtyard with the exception of Oswin, Lyn and Mark. Utilizing startling agility for a man of his size, Hector seized the long sought letter and shredded the seal before devouring its contents with his eyes. His face grew pale after reading the first few lines of the epistle before reddening at the end.

With a sigh, Hector turned to the three remaining in the room, "Lyn, Mark, I apologize for such an unseemly behavior for a lord. Oswin, I should have your head on a pike for revealing this to me at such an overdue date, but Uther specifically instructed me in the letter to forgive you for this transgression."

"Lord Hector," a soldier burst into the courtyard, "My apologies for interrupting your conversation, but Lord Athos urgently requests your attendance in the throne room."

"Lyn," Mark said suddenly, "You go on ahead and please inform Lord Athos that Lord Hector and I will be slightly delayed."

"As you wish," Lyn favored him with a smile before quitting the room.

Waiting until Lyn turned the corner, Mark glanced at Hector, "Lord Uther is no longer with us, I suppose?"

"Damn him," Hector said bitterly, "Damn him for not being able to wait until I returned home."

"What are you going to do now?" Mark asked.

Hector grunted, "What do you think? I'm going to introduce Nergal to a friend of mine as a reward for making me miss my brother's final moments."

"Friend?" Oswin was confused.

"His name," Hector's voice dripped acid, "Is Armads."

* * *

A few moments later, Hector and Mark arrived to find Athos, Cecilia, Lyn, and Eliwood already waiting for them in Ostia's throne room. Hector spared a wishful glance at the throne as if hoping to get a last glimpse of Uther's spirit before redirecting his attention to Athos.

"Some of you may recall that Nergal made reference to our friendship," Athos started, "In truth, 500 years ago, the two of us had struck a close bond. We studied together with the sages of Arcadia, the last city where humans and dragons dwell in peace."

"Humans and dragons can live alongside one another in harmony?" Cecilia asked.

Athos nodded, "It was done before the Scouring as well, but I digress. Nergal and I both sought a better future for Elibe, but we diverged on the means to approach such a conclusion. While he sought a path to power, I sought the path to peace. In this manner, I benefited from the advantage of surviving since the time of the Scouring and having witnessed the ferocity of its bitterest conflicts. The path to overwhelming might can only be tempered by an equally powerful desire for peace and harmony. When such a balance was achieved, power does not corrupt, but merely supplements its wielder. Nergal did not understand that."

"And the schism occurred," Mark hazarded a guess.

"Correct," Athos said, "We disagreed terribly on this subject, which ultimately ended in his downfall and banishment from Arcadia. Time and time again he has sought to regain the forbidden knowledge inside Arcadia's extensive library, but he only managed to escape with one: the knowledge of quintessence.

"Armed with this, he expanded his abilities with all sorts of creatures across Elibe. The more he absorbed, the more obsessed he became. At length, he sought the most powerful quintessence known to mankind."

"Dragons," Lyn murmured.

"That is correct. To my knowledge, there are no more dragons in Elibe besides those that dwell in Arcadia. Perhaps a few others survived, but Hartmut put paid to the last of the dragons during the final hours of the Scouring. So Nergal was forced to seek elsewhere for a dragon's quintessence. He found that solution at the Dragon's Gate on Valor."

"So all that remains for us to accomplish is to swipe off his ugly head before he can call the dragons," Hector growled, "What's the difficulty in that?"

"Roland and his heirs were always impulsive," Athos smiled, "But I suppose that is why they were never tied down by anything. Indeed, we must…" Athos stiffened, "A dark energy is gathering, a portal may be opened momentarily in this…"

Before Athos had finished speaking, a soldier knocked urgently on the door, "Lord Hector, an unknown enemy has appeared within the castle walls!"

"What of the guards?" Hector roared.

"Still in fierce combat with the intruders," came the answer, "But a small group seems to be headed this way!"

"Rally the defenders, stop them before they…" Hector was interrupted by Mark's negative hand motion, "Mark?"

"Open the double doors leading to the throne room," Mark said calmly, "If he actually wanted to kill us, he should know better than to send a few of his morphs. No, they are here to deliver us a message."

"In that case," Hector said grimly, "It'd be discourteous not to send him a reply."

"I trust you already have a reply ready?" Lyn asked.

Hector patted his ax by his side, "Right here."

The double doors burst open and a sniper walked into the throne room flanked by two gigantic knights. Halting before Hector, the morph delivered his master's message monotonously.

"This is a message from my master Lord Nergal: I shall await you on Val…"

His head hit the ground before the words echoed off the walls.

Hector slammed his ax into the stone floor, "Damn it, Eliwood! As Lord of Ostia, I believe I can answer my own voice mail!"

Eliwood sheathed his sword and fixed Hector with a look, "The other two are yours."

Hector looked at the other two morphs and promptly chopped them to fish bait.

"Now that that's settled," Eliwood said in an icy tone, "I believe we owe their master a gift in terms of sharp blows between the neck and shoulders."

_Truly the Sons of Roland, _Athos thought, "I will need to collect a few other items for this task. I trust that I will meet you all in front of Dragon's Gate?"

"We'll be waiting for you, old man," Hector promised.

* * *

The next day found a grim but determined army prepared for a full scale invasion of Valor. At Hector's behest, servants and guards were sent scuttling for supplies and weaponry from the local armories and storage sheds.

"Uh, Lord Hector," a plump courtier oily asked, "Are you trying to bankrupt Ostia?"

Hector fixed the man with a frosty stare, "Oswin, who is this man?"

"Lord Verain if it pleases you, milord," the courtier replied.

"Well then, Lord Verain," the Lord of Ostia replied, "We are very pleased with your donation of one hundred thousand gold to the war effort. As a reward for your generosity, Sir Oswin here will see to it that you take a lovely swim in the moat. Am I clear, Oswin?"

Moments later, a yelp and resulting splash could be heard from atop the battlements.

"Ah, the glories of pulling rank."

"Aren't you abusing your power a little?" Lyn asked.

"Oswin did mention that I cannot tax the Ostian treasury excessively," Hector pointed out, "So to repay the amount deducted from the castle treasury, I will replenish the loss with extravagant donations from ill-gotten gains of greedy courtiers."

"Milady," Kent reported with a small smirk, "Lyndis' Legions are assembled and ready to depart."

"Well, my group was itching for a fight since this morning," Hector said, "Eliwood, how about your end?"

"I've located everyone save for Bartre," Eliwood said with a frown, "But no one has seen him in the castle!"

"Bartre?" Kent asked, "I think he said that he was going to the local coliseum."

"Impossible," Eliwood stated flatly.

"Err," Kent raised an eyebrow, "Impossible?"

"Bartre can't possibly use the word 'coliseum,'" Eliwood replied with a victorious smile.

Kent laughed, "My apologies, I believe he said the 'arena.'"

"Why? Afraid he won't be able to hit something after this adventure?" Cecilia asked.

"You can ask him," Mark yawned while rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "Since he's coming back in a foul mood over there."

Sure enough, the fighter returned muttering incoherent words underneath his breath. He stopped only to hand Serra a small bag of coins that the cleric immediately pocketed.

Serra smirked like a cat that got the cream, "Serra 23, Bartre 0."

"I'm impressed he actually took more than one blow to knock over," a foreign female voice drifted in, "Though it's more incredible to find my brother in the middle of civilization."

"Karla." Karel nodded, signifying that he acknowledged her presence, "It has been awhile. Are you ready?"

"Ready to die," Karla replied, "For I would never raise my sword against my brother."

Eliwood, Hector, and Lyn heaved a collective sigh of relief. One maniacal, bloodthirsty Sword Demon was enough, and now to discover he had a sister who was a swordswoman raised possibilities neither of them wished to dwell upon. One thing rang through their minds, _We had prayed that one of them would be sane, but which one? One kills people as if they were flies, and the other wandered the world seeking death?_

"Only one is worthy enough to wield this sword," Karel said as he fingered the katana by his side, "Our parents' blood proved that they were unworthy."

The lords winced. _At least we know who's definitely lost contact with his humanity._

"Perhaps I am unworthy as well," Karla replied calmly, "Since I only wanted to see my brother come home."

Karel took his hand off the Wo Dao and turned away, his eyes softening from the harsh granite they usually were. Wordlessly he turned around, with Karla following behind.

"Come," the Sword Demon said, "Let's visit that boyfriend of yours that you soundly whipped in the arena."

"B-b-boyfriend?"

"Home is where thy humanity lies," Eliwood quoted from _Elimine's Proverbs_.

Mark could hear his conscience laughing bitterly at those words. _Home and humanity are two things that I lost many years ago._

_

* * *

_

_Well, I did a 'bit' of arena-abusing in my time playing FE7, and somehow had Bartre 1-hit kill Karla during that chapter in the game… Fortunately it brought her down to 1 hp and I still managed to recruit her! (lol) Ugh, how the heck did I cram four chapters into one? Thank you for reading and drop me a line!_


	23. Of Triumphs and Tragedies

_Author's Corner:_

_For those of you that visited my profile recently, you would (hopefully) understand that my hard drive decided to commit seppuku last week. Naturally, the chapter I was working on was also destroyed in the process, hence the reason for my tardiness._

_I thank all who caught my terrible mistake regarding the difference between Exaccus and the Sword of Seals. I had read somewhere, not sure who posted it, that the two were one and the same. Then, after posting the previous chapter and reading a few of the reviews, I realized my error. A thousand apologies are not sufficient for butchering the Fire Emblem lore. (But I offer them anyways.)_

_And now, I give you…_

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 22**

**Of Triumphs and Tragedies**

_July 7th, towards the evening,_

Before the Lycian lords led the army away from Ostia, Eliwood had placed Ninian's body in a coffin emblazoned with the sigils befitting a princess of Lycia. The closed casket was kept within the Ostian Royal Crypt, where previous Ostian lords, with the notable exception of the mighty Roland, were interred. Situated underneath Castle Ostia itself, it was rumored that the spirits of fallen lords watched over their illustrious 'Impregnable Castle.'

Castle Ostia, though well known as a military fortress, certainly allowed visitors within its mighty walls. Leygance, an Ostian general who served under Lord Uther, was appointed Steward, exercising the power and authority of the absent lord. Under Hector's strict orders that everything should be maintained as if Uther had never perished, Leygance continued the time-honored custom of receiving civilian complaints by the ruling lord or steward.

It was on such an occasion when several families sought to bring their grievances to General Leygance. Not wishing to disturb the audience, the majority of these favor-seekers left their children to romp and play in the courtyard of the castle. At the moment, nearly a score of children were preoccupied in a fearsome game of hide and seek, with one child counting in gibberish that roughly amounted to fifty.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

"Cheater! You didn't count to fiddy!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

While the argument raged, one purple-haired boy slipped away. It was the capital opportunity to extend the time limit and find an invincible hiding place, and the young Gol was not one to waste such an opportunity. Scrambling about, he suddenly came across an old, abandoned well that was hidden behind a dense patch of ivy. Grinning wolfishly, Gol carefully pried away the plants and took a peek inside.

_What the? How can there still be water in here? This must have been left alone for years for the plants to grow all over it! And… WHOA!_

Don't try this at home.

The age-worn stone ring around the wall gave way abruptly, spilling the innocent child into the dark depths below. Scraping his leg terribly against the rough edges, Gol left out a pitiful scream of terror, praying someone would hear him as the water rushed upwards to meet him. He lost consciousness upon impact.

When the boy awoke, he found himself upon dry ground, albeit quite scraped and bruised. Taking stock of his surroundings, Gol found that he was indeed at the bottom of the well, but there was no water! Above him, some sort of twinkling light shimmered above him as if imitating the surface of water. Little did he know that he had accidentally stumbled upon the ancient passageway to the Ostian Royal Crypt. Nor did he comprehend that the water overhead was nothing but a magical illusion designed to disguise this entrance.

None of these thoughts crossed the terrified child, who sincerely thought that he had drowned and was currently in… heaven? Nah, this must be hell since he could still feel pain from his fresh cuts and bruises.

_Wait, _Gol thought, _the priests told us that hell was full of fire and demons and evil stuff. If this was hell it wouldn't be so dark and scary._ Deciding that this wasn't heaven or hell, Gol arrived at the tender conclusion that he must still be alive. Groping in the darkness, he felt alongside the walls until he came across a small tunnel that required grown men to stoop, but was a perfect fit for a child of ten. As Gol ventured through the darkness, he could faintly make out a soft chanting along with some sort of flickering light at the end of the tunnel.

Abruptly, the burrow emptied out into a magnificent chamber filled with flickering torches. Wide-eyed and awestruck, the stupefied child gasped lightly as he saw a tall figure garbed in a dark cloak standing before an open coffin. And behold, a teal head was rising from the darkness!

The poor adolescent's scream echoed through the cavern.

The chanting ceased and the robed figure turned around. Gol shivered as the being seemed to fixate his or her gaze upon him.

"P-p-please," he babbled, "I-I m-meant no harm! D-don't hurt me!"

The robed figure replied, "Begone Golrois, and forget everything you saw."

_How does he know my name? My friends call me Gol because they cannot pronounce the name correctly! And how can a grown man have the voice of a little child?_ A whirlwind of thoughts assailed Golrois' mind.

"Did you not hear me?" The figure continued, "I said begone!"

The petrified Golrois scrambled to his feet and ran as if the very demons of hell were on his heels. So great was his haste to flee that he didn't even hear the last words of his enigmatic companion.

**"After all, dragon's blood can only be countered with dragon's blood."**

Golrois was already clambering up the rocky edges of the well. Climbing dazedly out of the hole, he crumpled into a heap in the middle of the courtyard. As the other children desperately called for adult assistance, the purple-haired boy gradually lost awareness of his surroundings.

But two things he would derive from this adventure that would meet him later on. One was the remnants of his injured leg, a complication that would haunt him in Nabata. The other was the knowledge of this secret entrance to Castle Ostia, where he would return in the distant future under a different name.

The annals of Ostian history would name him Asthor the Redeemed.

* * *

_July 10th, shores of Valor,_

_I am currently writing in a leaflet from a completely different book. Confound it, where the bloody hell did I misplace my journal? I have searched high and low for the blasted manual, but so far it has continued to elude my grasp. Perchance I will recover the manuscript after our invasion of Valor, but towards that, only time will tell._

_All in all, we've made fair progress towards our destination. Favorable winds, no accidents on the way, and good morale are vital requirements for long distance travel. Cecilia and the lords see this as a good omen for our success._

_The one minor technicality is whether we are coming back in one or multiple pieces._

"We'll make beachhead in roughly half an hour," Fargus boomed, "Are y'all prepared?"

Grim nods greeted his words as Lyn spoke, "Though we hope we can leave Nils here with you?"

Fargus nodded, "I'll take the little one. Though y'all better come back and take him off ma hands, ya hear me?"

"Of course," Eliwood said, "Mark, Cecilia, how shall we approach this mess?"

"Mark has the overall command," Cecilia replied, "I will be leading a smaller, swifter party that serves to outflank our opponents."

Mark nodded, "Though that depends on Heath and Farina's reports. In the event that we are unable to combat Nergal's morphs with a reasonable chance of success, we will implement a secondary plan of action."

Hector scoffed, "The odds were terrible enough at the Shrine of Seals, what could possibly be worse?"

"That's where you are wrong, Hector of Ostia," Mark shook his head, "Morphs are ten times more formidable than flesh-and-blood opponents. The Black Fang are, after all, mortal men and women. They quail in fear, they hunger or thirst, they can be blinded by emotion, and they can be routed. Morphs do not possess any emotion nor any need for physical sustenance. An outnumbered group of morphs would give battle just as ferociously as a large army of them."

"The perfect soldier," Lyn murmured, "Emotionless and faultless."

"Correct," Mark said, "And that changes the manner of outflanking completely, Cecilia. You and I are well-versed in dealing with normal human beings. Once outflanked or outmaneuvered, they panic, flee, or do both simultaneously. Morphs will not hesitate, merely turning and challenging you none the less, which significantly downplays our advantage."

"I see your point, but how does that help us?" Hector asked.

"We split up as planned," Mark gave parchment sealed in wax to Cecilia, "Here are your instructions. Open them only when you see the army engaged in full scale combat with Nergal's henchmen."

Cecilia nodded, "Who can you spare for this operation?"

"I leave that to you," the tactician replied, "Choose wisely."

"Since this was once a Black Fang stronghold," Cecilia answered, "My detachment will consist of the lords, Legault, Nino, Jaffar, Matthew, and Guy."

"Matthew still wants Jaffar's heart on a plate," Hector objected, "They shouldn't be deployed together."

"Necessity outweighs the risk, Lord Hector," Cecilia replied, "This group will have to move swiftly and stealthily. Our objective would be completely defeated if the morphs uncovered our location."

"Exactly," Mark replied, "Now that this particular matter is solved… Fargus!"

Catching the nod from Mark, the captain bellowed, "Drop anchor!"

The _Davros_ coasted to a halt half a mile offshore.

* * *

Twenty miles inland, the army set about preparing a temporary camp. Serving as their 'fire' base, Mark had specifically chosen this site for its startling lack of defenses. Situated on an open plain with the ocean behind them and three wide plateaus before them, there was little the army could do if beset by overwhelming enemy numbers.

"Mark," Pent and Louise found the tactician deep in thought, "Is there any reason…"

"…I chose this utterly Elimine-forsaken rock for our base camp?" Mark finished.

"Well, to be blunt," Pent said, "Quite so."

"Do you have _any _idea how many morphs Nergal has?" Mark asked.

Louise was confused, "Sir Mark? What does that have to do with anything?"

Mark ripped out a parchment from his temporary journal, "This is the tallies from Heath and Farina's reports."

"Elimine preserve us," Louise gasped as the couple blanched at the figures, "Half a…"

"Quiet!" Mark admonished, "This is to be kept from the army until I choose to reveal it. Without their liege lords to command absolute obedience and courage in the face of adversity, the army may panic and forgo any possible success we otherwise could've obtained."

"Yet you were the one who allowed Cecilia to guide the lords," Pent pointed out.

"For a definite reason," Mark replied, "The hammer will fall hardest upon our base camp, aiming to maim or kill as many of us as possible, but with the commanders as first priority. If they can decapitate the leadership, our outnumbered force will be no match for their assault."

"I suppose that is true," Pent admitted.

Mark squinted, trying to determine the amount of daylight that remained, "Lord Pent, could I ask you to bring Marcus, Oswin and Wallace over to the command tent? They, being the company commanders left to us, should at least be aware of the odds we face." Mark ducked into the command tent hastily erected in the middle of camp.

"Of course," Pent nodded, "Come, Louise."

As the pair navigated their way through the agitated camp, they were nearly run over by a speeding teal thunderbolt.

"N-Nils?" Louise asked.

"Lord Pent?" Nils panted, "Where is Lord Drake?"

Pent inwardly grimaced at the name, but answered the question anyways, "He is in the command tent. Why do you ask?"

The color drained from the boy's face, "He has to get out of there, now!"

"What? Why?"

A crackle of electricity answered the question. Dust chocked the air as the cataclysmic sword of the avenging angel seemed to shatter the peaceful ground. The command tent exploded, renting the fabric into hundreds of flickering scraps. The furniture within the tent, consisting of a large oak table and several chests, were largely blown apart by the fury of the incoming spell. Fearing for the worst, the army gradually approached the remains of the tent.

"Sir Mark?" Marcus called out hesitantly.

Rath, standing half a dozen yards across from where Marcus stood, noted the remains of the table boards shifted slightly. Wordlessly communicating the observation with his eyes, Rath was able to secure the aid of Dart and Bartre in removing the troublesome remnants.

What they revealed, was a badly scorched tactician bleeding from half a dozen terrible wounds.

"Took…" Mark gasped, "Took you long enough…"

"Damn," Rath cursed, "Healer!"

"No…" Mark swatted away the proffered hand, "Someone help me bind these scars, save your energy for the battle ahead."

"What?"

Mark leveled a cold stare at everyone around him, "The sniping attempt has done its work. Now the attack begins."

Aided by Priscilla and Serra, Rath applied several crude bandages to ensure the bleeding stopped. Struggling to his feet, Mark winced as the cloth strained against his torn flesh.

"Wallace, Marcus, Oswin, Heath, Rath, Canas and Lord Pent to me," Mark grimaced, "Everyone else prepare for battle. The morphs will be here shortly."

Hesitantly, the army dispersed, leaving only the commanders around their tactician. However, the damage had already been done. Dismayed by the virulent strike in the heart of their encampment, the army was caught off-guard and remained vulnerable to attack.

"Sir Mark," Canas asked first, "What in the name of the gods was that? It was far too powerful to be a normal long range magic spell."

"I'm not a magic specialist," Mark replied slowly, "But I think that was a thunder spell."

"It was indeed," Pent agreed, recalling the surge gathering before the attack, "Though what puzzles me is the sheer violence of the blow. To call forth a magic of that caliber would mean we are dealing with a veteran magician."

Mark grunted, "There is actually another reason. By the will of some Elimine-forsaken demon, the spell chanced to land in the general vicinity of the anti-magic potions you and Canas were working on."

Canas' monocle popped from its socket, "Oh dear, a chain reaction…"

"From the hostile agents acting in accordance in a small vicinity," Pent mused, "The density was too high, I'm afraid."

"I hate to interrupt," Heath said, "But can we discuss the workings of magical potions afterwards? It's giving me a headache and we are about to have several run-ins with several large parties of morphs."

_More like an army of morphs, _Mark corrected inwardly, "I called for all of you for the reason that all of the warriors present are veterans of pitch battles in extreme predicaments. I will no longer keep the size of the enemy force from you."

"So how many are there?" Oswin asked as Heath winced, "We're outnumbered four or five to one?"

"The exact estimates run somewhere closer to ten times."

Silence reigned supreme where the remains of the command tent now stood.

"Five hundred?" Wallace hazarded a guess.

"Give or take a few dozen," Heath replied quickly, "I hate to say this, but the party I came across on scout was at least three hundred foes alone. That doesn't include what Farina came across."

Rath, silent until this moment, asked, "Your orders?"

Mark raised an eyebrow, "No questions asked?"

"For the record, you haven't actually tasted defeat yet, have you?" Marcus smiled thinly.

"That's true," Oswin admitted, "What is your will, Sir Mark?"

_Blind trust and loyalty, _Mark thought, _when was the last time I commanded both?_

The commanders turned as one towards their tactician, "Awaiting your command."

"A pity that we do not have a capable guide," Mark shook his head slightly, "Given that the previous Black Fang members are all in Cecilia's detachment."

"A small oversight," Heath replied, "Farina came across someone who could prove invaluable towards that end."

Said pegasus rider was currently directing that individual towards the circle of commanders.

* * *

"Too many bloody morphs," Hector growled in distaste.

Eliwood nodded, "And we cannot give battle here. The slightest skirmish would draw the entire enemy force upon our position."

Half a dozen men and women enshrouded themselves in the thick undergrowth several miles west of the army's encampment. Cecilia had sent Legault, Matthew and Guy to probe for the locations of enemy scouts, leaving everyone else to await their return. Nino had dozed off while leaning against Jaffar's shoulder, with the assassin training his gaze slowly across the landscape looking for trouble. Occasionally, he glanced downwards at his charge before returning to his silent vigil a moment later.

"I wonder where they are all going?" Lyn remarked as another troop of morphs marched past their position.

"I would assume they are gathering for an assault upon the remainder of the army," Cecilia said, "But…"

"…There are certainly a lot of them," Lyn finished.

Eliwood cleared his throat, "Have any of you found this arrangement slightly, how should I say this, disconcerting?"

Hector frowned, "What do you mean?"

"First of all," Eliwood said, "Fargus let us off the _Davros_ in a rowboat, allowing us to reach shore first while the rest of the army disembarked miles away."

"That's not too surprising," Lyn said, "After all, our mission is a failure if we are discovered ahead of time."

Eliwood shook his head, "That's the exact problem! What is our mission?"

"What do you mean?" Hector asked.

"Look at us," Eliwood gestured around, "We are exactly nine people, a few infiltrators and magicians with no cavalry, range, or air support. How can we successfully outflank a disciplined morph army so ill-equipped for the task?"

Cecilia frowned, "I had thought of this snag as well, and the solution is still beyond my grasp. Perchance the sealed parchment would yield us some answers?"

The lords nodded their consent, but Jaffar surprised them all, "Someone approaches."

Sure enough, the three scouts Cecilia dispatched earlier had returned with their news. After making sure Guy could competently keep the fuming Matthew in check, Legault made his report.

"You might as well open Mark's letter now," Legault said grimly, "Morphs from all over Valor are converging upon the army campsite, though their numbers are vastly beyond our initial estimates."

"Do you have an approximate headcount?"

Matthew glared at the assassin, but answered the question, "Several hundred, maybe more."

"…What?" Hector managed to speak after a moment of dead silence.

Lyn and Cecilia exchanged a glance before both going for the sealed parchment. A sinking sense of foreboding propelled their need for haste. Hurriedly cracking the seal, Cecilia unraveled the manuscript while Lyn seemed to devour every word with her eyes.

"By St. Elimine…" Lyn and Cecilia said simultaneously.

Eliwood looked away from the fuming Hector, "What is it?"

Cecilia wordlessly handed the parchment to Eliwood, "Read." The comment was not phrased as a sentence.

Mystified, Eliwood unrolled the scrap, flicking a piece of dried wax away. His eyes widened halfway down the page.

_**To Cecilia and Company:**_

_**In the event this manuscript is opened according to schedule, you are to leave at once.**_

_**Your objective is not to reinforce the primary division at all.**_

_**The enemy force numbers nearly half a thousand soldiers, thus ensuring the failure of any flanking motion.**_

_**Under no circumstances are you to come to our aid, however much we need it.**_

_**Direct your attention to Dragon's Gate and seek out Nergal immediately.**_

_**Legault and Jaffar should possess enough knowledge to allow you to pass undetected.**_

**_The army will provide all the distraction and time you need to accomplish this task._**

_**Good luck and godspeed.**_

_**Mark of Etruria**_

_**

* * *

**_

Miles away, the morph vanguard made contact with the stolid defenders through the middle pass. Composed of hardy knights and sword wielding mercenaries supported by a few archers, the vanguard recklessly threw themselves against the unyielding wall of steel. Overhead, a crowd of wyverns were amassing to the northeast, preparing for their strafing run upon the beleaguered invaders below. Across the plains to the east, a gathering wing of mounted horsemen started their advance upon the Lycians' position.

Rallying around their tactician, the army had distributed themselves into three roughly equal divisions. Wallace and the vassals of Lyndis' Legions stood on the left flank, supported by Canas and Raven. The sturdy Ostians planted themselves firmly on the right, where they'd meet the charge of the incoming horsemen. Here the most hardy of the army was positioned, including the burly Hawkeye and the flashing blade of Karel. The honor of the center guard was left to the valiant retainers of Pherae. Led by the veteran Marcus, they were the first to engage the enemy.

With the furious clash of steel and the howls of injured and dying men, the noble servants of Eliwood struck down the foes in their range. The Knights of Pherae, known throughout Elibe for their mighty cavalrymen skilled with spear and spur, clove through their enemy without flinching in the slightest. Marcus smote down the enemy leader with a vicious blow to the helm. To his left, Lowen dispatched to mercenaries with a furious swing of the blade. Keen-eyed Rebecca planted an arrow between the eyes of the opposing archer.

The enemy broke and retreated to lick their wounds, leaving a score of dead or dying men at the feet of their conquerors. As they revealed their unprotected backs, a furious barrage of magical fire fell upon them unawares, dropping many more. Finally able to catch a breather, Marcus turned slightly in the saddle to regard the Mage General several feet behind him, "Enjoying the afternoon sun, Lord Pent?"

Pent smiled briefly, "My apologies, I cannot risk firing into the crowd for fear of injuring your comrades."

"No offense meant," Marcus replied, "Though I fear the day is far from spent. These curs are much more disciplined and organized than any foe we've encountered in the past. The instant the battle is against them, they retreat and wait for reinforcements."

"The gods know they have enough," Pent murmured.

Further talk was forestalled as scrape of naked steel and screams of battle reached their ears. A herd of ax-wielding morphs the size of ogres were grappling with the members of Lyndis' Legions, who gave as good as they got, never hesitating to retaliate with a particularly fatal blow. Unfortunately, the pure numbers of enemy warriors threatened to breach their lines. While nimble and agile, Kent, Sain, Raven and Karla had no problems evading the clumsy blows, but they found themselves steadily being pushed back as waves of ax-bearing morphs scrambled after them.

That was, until Wallace emerged on the scene bearing a dripping ax in either hand. Charging forward with speed that belied his heavy armor, Wallace was immersed in the thick of the battle as he hewn enemies left and right. Inspired by the courage displayed by their teacher, Kent and Sain furiously threw themselves into combat, driving away foes that threatened to surround Wallace. Aided by Canas' magic and Wil's arrows, Karla and Raven adopted a similar strategy.

Out of the crowd of enemy warriors rode a towering morph upon a black steed that seemed to breathe fire with every step. Deducing that the fall of Wallace would yield the victory, the undead paladin set his lance in rest and charged towards the imposing general. Under the hooves of his raging stallion, the corpses of his fallen allies were flung aside or crushed underfoot in the furious charge.

"General Wallace!" Wil cried out, "Take heed!"

Wallace only smirked, "Ah, this time they brought a champion worthy of splinting a lance against. Kent, my lance!"

"Here!" The red-haired knight answered as he detached the heavy lance tied to his saddle and tossed it awkwardly to the general. Truth be told, Kent was glad to be rid of the cumbersome lance since it heavily restricted his mount's movement and reaction. Now a normal horseman's lance would've been no problem, but Wallace's monster of a weapon was quite a different story.

Scarcely a moment after Wallace set his lance in rest; the champion was upon the Caelin General. Fair and true Wallace directed his weapon his opponent's shield, his lance piercing through oaken shield and arm alike. The retaliatory blow likewise managed to penetrate armor, poking through Wallace's chain mail underneath and wounding the giant in the right forearm. While the champion reeled his horse for another pass, Wallace drew his mighty ax in his left hand and struck the morph a furious buffet that clove rider and steed to the earth. The morph struggled to rise and then expired as Karla drove her sword into his chest. Seeing their leader befall such a terrible fate and unable to wrest the victory, the surviving morphs retreated with Erk and Rath's parting shots at their backs.

Wallace was not the only one to suffer wounds in that fierce melee. Both Sain and Raven were injured, and Karla suffered from a knick on her sword arm. Serra frowned before trying her best to alleviate the pain and put them back to functioning order. A healing staff, though able to accelerate the natural regeneration process, is not a miracle worker. Wounds still required time and relative safety to knit themselves back together. Needless to say, a mortal wound was utterly beyond its power.

"How much time do we have until the next wave?" Sain bit his lip as Serra applied a poultice to his leg. The shin guard had turned most of the blow, but any higher and the Green Lance would spend the rest of his days with only his right leg intact.

"Not sure," Kent said as he tossed his canteen to Karla, "Though we threw back their first attack…"

"We may not hold for much longer," Karla finished after taking a grateful gulp of water.

"Attack?" Wallace laughed, "That was not an attack, laddies. More of a test to see which flank is the weakest, hence why the morphs are coming one approach at a time. No, Mark informed me that this is just the appetizer; the main course will be served when all four sides are attacked at the same time."

"Four?"

"The wyverns," Mark said.

The tactician looked annoyed when everyone save Raven and Wallace jumped at his voice. _Some things will never change…_

"When the attack commences, the three wings will be left temporarily without support," Mark instructed, "The formation will regroup into a tighter knit box formation, with support units in the middle. In order for our own reserve force in the skies to actually yield us some advantage, the three dozen hostile wyverns must be eliminated swiftly."

"Excuse me," another voice intruded on the briefing.

The group turned to find a scarred woman with a frown that could curdle milk interrupt their conversation.

"I am Vaida," the woman said sourly, "The Ostian knight yonder wishes to inform you," Mark was the beneficiary recipient of the Most Poisonous Glare of the Year, "That the enemy cavalry has stalled their advance to await the other companies."

"Why, thank you," Mark said silkily, "Now please speak with Heath regarding your next assignment."

As Vaida departed with a string of incoherent curses, Wallace raised an eyebrow at Mark, "Spill it. How did you get that screeching old hag to obey you?"

Mark dismissed the matter offhand, "Heath informed her that we were the ones that saved Zephidel at Sunset Palace. Apparently, Vaida serves Bern before the Black Fang, so she reluctantly agreed to repay that service."

"You said reluctantly," Raven said suspiciously, "What prevents her from slitting your throat in the middle of the night? She knows you engineered her two rather inglorious failures."

"Oh, regarding that," Mark drew a small vial out of his pocket, "I have insurance."

Kent took one glance at the greenish liquid and looked back at Mark, "Tell me you didn't slip her…"

"What poison?" Mark said innocently then lowered his voice confidentially, "That's what Vaida _thinks _she drank. This is the remnants of Lowen's cooking oil from a few days ago. Vile concoction when taken with water, but it'll do her no harm more disagreeable than indigestion for a day or two. She is under the assumption that I will yield her the 'antidote' after a period of good will on her part."

"Um, Lord Drake?" Nils piped up.

The tactician turned to regard the boy, "What is it?"

"I thought you would like to know when the enemy began their offensive," the bard replied by pointing to the skies.

The enemy charged before Nils completed his sentence.

* * *

The snap of a dry twig alerted Limstella that she was not alone at the doors leading to Dragon's Gate. Glancing about slowly, she saw a vaguely familiar young girl standing frozen in terror. The green-haired girl came to her senses when their eyes caught one another, and she run quickly into the forest. Limstella recalled her name at last. She was Nino, the adoptive child of the dead Sonia and currently aiding the enemies of her master. Gliding along with her feet occasionally touching the ground, the morph gave pursuit.

After a brief pursuit, the morph cornered the young mage. A flicker of desperation shone in Nino's eyes as she whipped out a spell tome. Quirking an eyebrow to imitate a human's confusion, Limstella drew forth a spell tome of her own before gazing at the impudent girl.

"You know you are no match for me," Limstella addressed the girl before her.

"…I know," Nino said, "If I am alone, I am unable to do anything."

Before Limstella could reply, Nino had swiftly traced a spell and flung the projectile at the morph without even mumbling the words. Limstella's estimation of the child went up a notch at that. Silently casting a spell reduced the magical firepower, but aided in speed and surprise. Few mages of twice as old as Nino were capable of such a feat.

But the attack was futile. Limstella raised one hand to raise a small magical barrier to deflect the attack while directing her other hand to point a lightning spell at Nino. However, what gave the morph pause was that the light of desperation had disappeared from the girl's features and was replaced by a small smirk of triumph.

"Excellent bait, Nino," another female voice said in congratulations.

Before she could blink, Limstella was pierced by four blades. Legault, Guy, and Jaffar had snuck behind the distracted morph and slew her while Limstella's spells were focused on Nino. Hector had kept Matthew back in the event that the thief would take this opportunity and attempt to harm Jaffar. Normally, Hector would've give his vassal free reign to do so, maybe even helping him slay the Angel of Death, but now was not the time. Removing Limstella and Nergal were first priority, and the little petty grievances were saved for later.

"Come," Cecilia said as she emerged from the trees with Lyn and Eliwood, "Dragon's Gate and Nergal await us."

* * *

'_Tis done and thank you for reading! I apologize once again for the delay and I humbly thank everyone for their understanding and patience._


	24. Song of Roland

_Author's Corner:_

_First time I heard someone call Limstella the "Ultimate morph." (Someone watches Gundam Seed too much lol.) And it was the first time I heard the term Hector's Hecklers… I could've sworn they called it Hector's Horde. Then again both sound sort of weird…_

_For the record (and for those who didn't read my profile) this will serve as a prequel to FE6 (which FE7 already was). FE7 is numbered after FE6 simply because FE7 was produced after FE6 came out. Certain elements in the games were tweaked and balanced, such as the number of weapons you can master and the number of supports you could have in one map. In FE6 you could master (attain the S-rank) in multiple weapons whereas this was impossible in FE7. In FE6, you could go through all ABC supports between 2 characters on one map if you let them stand close enough. (This is true, I had Roy and Lilina go through all 3 supports in the Durandal sidequest.) Another thing was that enemy reinforcements appeared at the end of your turn in FE6, so they would immediately attack on the ensuing enemy turn. (Tweaked in FE7 so we wouldn't get ambushed and lose a character all the time, lol.)_

_The Song of Roland was a medieval epic that sung of the last valiant stand of Roland (duh), a favored knight (or nephew, I don't recall now) of the mighty Charlemagne. Since Lycia's founder is also Roland, I chose to 'borrow' this title for the chapter. I do not own this title and I'll add more details about this epic at the end of the chapter._

_Gasp, is this true? Can I possibly have updated ahead of my deadline?_

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 23**

**Song of Roland**

_Inside the temple,_

Cecilia and company ventured into the darkness, with Legault and Matthew leading with torches held high. They had not met a soul ever since dispatching Limstella before the ruins leading to Dragon's Gate. The caverns leading to the Dragon's Gate was deserted, without a single morph challenging the small party. Jaffar and Legault were able to locate every nook and canny that could've served as possible ambush locations. Having served here as a key lieutenant, Legault found it preposterous that security was so lax.

"It's simply too quiet," Legault muttered.

Cecilia agreed, "There should be at least some resistance. Surely Nergal didn't throw all his morphs at Mark's command!"

That didn't sit well with her comrades. "Let's hope now," Matthew replied, "Even Mark would have his hands full outnumbered ten to one."

"And the old man is late," Hector pointed out, "He currently holds the weapons we intend to use against Nergal. I sincerely doubt the weapons we carry presently can seriously harm Nergal."

"This is another test," Eliwood suddenly said, "Whether we can press on towards our goal without wavering."

Lyn frowned, "It's quite a troubling test, since we are literally abandoning our friends to the wolves in this manner."

Cecilia sighed, "As much as it vexes me, we cannot return to their aid. Our strength would be powerless against the number of morphs that stand between our friends and us."

"To put it bluntly," Guy said from his position next to Matthew, "It'd be suicide."

Cecilia nodded wearily, "So it remains for us to push on and slay Nergal, in hopes that with his death, the morphs would either die or pose no threat to our allies." Everyone heard the unspoken words: that's assuming they survive that long.

"Then we had better hurry," Eliwood said grimly.

"Stop," Jaffar said suddenly, putting a hand on Nino's shoulders.

Everyone looked at the Angel of Death, who ignored their looks of confusion.

"Show yourself," said the emotionless assassin.

Eight figures emerged from the shadowy doorways leading to the Dragon's Gate. Nino and Legault did not react to their pale skin, but both started when they recognized who the morphs were made in memory of.

"Father…" Nino said haltingly, "Lloyd, Linus…"

"What blasphemy is this?" Legault began swearing a blue streak, "Uhai, Ursula, Lloyd, Linus, and even Master Reed. Enough, you can close your eyes," he took a deep breath before unsheathing his sword, "I shall return you to your peaceful rest."

"How nice, the fiend presents appetizers before the main dish. Darin I recognize," Hector said, "Who the hell are the other two?"

"A fallen bishop named Kenneth and an inferior assassin named Jerme," Lyn answered, "Drake and I clashed with them during the retrieval of the Fire Emblem."

"It appears that Nergal is unwilling to receive our audience," Eliwood said darkly, "Then we shall arrive before him treading on the carcasses of these abominations."

* * *

_Shores of Valor, at the same time,_

"We cannot hold another charge," Farina gasped as Priscilla pulled taut a strip of linen, "It's an amazing feat of skill and luck that we've prevailed for thus long."

The gallant little army had thrown back all comers for the better part of the afternoon. Five times the ravenous horde of morphs stormed against the iron will of the defenders, and five times the ferocity of the undead was thrown back with heavy loss. Yet every small victory was bought at a price. Isadora was unhorsed during the second attack, her faithful steed pierced by a stray javelin. Without Harken to protect her, she may have been hewn to pieces by the approaching enemy warriors. The valiant knight of Pherae was slashed by several cruel blows before the army could extricate the two from their predicament.

After a fierce and perilous dogfight in the skies, Heath and his detachment of fliers emerged victorious, albeit heavily hampered by injuries. All three pegasi were injured, with Huey nearly have a wing cut off by a lance. Farina and Fiora were both wounded to the point that continued battle was impossible. Grounded, the reserve force was largely spent.

"Priscilla, Renault," Mark said tiredly, "How is the situation on your respective ends?"

The tactician had partaken in the fighting as well. Though still severely inconvenienced by his injuries and scarcely able to stand on his feet, the ex-general had stabbed a lance into the ground before lashing himself to the weapon. Brandishing a footman's spear, Mark assisted in the defense of the right flank against the enemy cavalry.

The troubadour shook her head, "Terrible, Karla and Raven were never able to rest, and I fear Karla's injury may become infected. Wil lost two fingers on his left hand to a javelin that glanced off Wallace's armor. Canas was almost decapitated by a hand ax, but it _only _struck his right shoulder."

"Kent and Sain are still mounted?"

"No," Priscilla said, "Trying to spare the poor animals, they threw back the previous attack dismounted. Everyone's exhausted terribly."

"Same in the middle," Renault replied, "Both Lady Isadora and Sir Harken have been taken out of the fight. The other four have tried to hold the line, but the area distance is far too large to be held by limited numbers."

"And I can testify that the right flank will not hold much longer," Mark said, "A couple more punishing charges and the flank will falter completely."

"It appears that you are in quite the situation."

A teleportation rune appeared on the ground besides the wounded tactician and the trio of healers. Before an astounded Serra and Priscilla, the Archsage materialized with staff in hand and three weapons floating besides him. Athos gazed placidly at the rambunctious morph host arrayed against the wounded army before looking back at Mark.

The tactician smiled thinly, "I don't suppose you have any spare time to help us?"

Athos shook his head slowly, "I'm afraid not. The chosen ones have engaged in combat with Nergal's bodyguards. Should they reach him before I can bring the weapons…"

"They will be slaughtered," Mark finished, "Very well, take Nils and make haste!"

"The gods watch over you, Son of Roland," Athos answered gravely, "However, this much I can still do for you."

The Archsage raised his arms just as a herd of morphs began their fateful charge against the army's right flank. Waving his arms several times and chanting the words of an age old incantation, Athos' eyes blazed with power as he rained down destruction upon the charging horsemen. In a flash, the green fields were turned to ash by the might of Forblaze, the searing flame that none could match. In a moment's notice, the Archsage had largely reduced the enemy cavalry to meat pies, seriously lessening the threat to the beleaguered army.

Spells of such magnitude were not cast without some exhaustion to the summoner. Breathing deeply from the previous exertion, Athos turned towards Mark, "That is all I can assist you presently. If I tap into my reserves too quickly, I fear I will be unable to challenge Nergal at full strength."

"What you've done is more than enough as it is," Mark replied, "Fear not, we shall handle the rest."

The Archsage nodded and departed after collecting Nils.

"Now," Mark turned his attention back to the small group assembled around him that was gawking at Athos' magical display of power, "While the morphs are still reeling from that unexpected assault, we must begin our preparations before they strike at us again. They will be more wary and less densely packed after witnessing that attack, but they by all means will come again."

"The army is battered and scarcely able to continue the struggle," Marcus rasped out, "We cannot hold this position any longer."

"And we won't," Mark said evenly, "Prepare to retreat, we've lost this battle."

Everyone looked aghast. "Retreat?" Wallace asked, "We cannot retreat! If we were to abandon the field, the morphs will strike us immediately."

"We stand no chance of reaching Fargus if that occurs," Sain said.

"You will," Mark said tiredly, "The majority of the injured and support units are to retreat steadily while a rearguard buys them the time to escape."

"The rearguard will be slaughtered," Renault pointed out, "It is suicide to stand so outnumbered in this location."

"I know quite well the rearguard will perish," Mark replied, "That's why I am going to lead them."

"What?" Everyone shouted.

"I have never sent a soldier where I dared not tread myself," the tactician replied steely, "And I'm not about to change that. I will not order anyone to doom themselves with me, but anyone who wishes to sell their lives dearly to pay for their comrades' escape is more than welcome to stand with me."

"Is there no other way?" Oswin asked dismally.

Mark shook his head, "There is no other way to save the majority of this gallant war band. With the sacrifice of the minority, the bulk of the army may make it to the _Davros_ to await the lords' return. Sir Marcus, you are to lead the evacuation."

Marcus tugged on his beard, "But Sir Mark, surely I…"

"I know you can fight," the tactician cut him off, "But your steed is tired and unable to support you much longer. As you are the more experienced war leader, you are to lead the evacuees."

Marcus wrestled with this order briefly before submitting, "As you wish."

"Now," Mark let his eyes drift over the assembled army around him, "What I ask of you is difficult, choosing death over life. Yet will anyone stand with me, till dusk lies overhead or the end of our lives?"

Heath was the first man forward, "That I will."

Priscilla moved to restrain the ex-knight of Bern, but the green-haired warrior waved her off with a sad smile, "Twice I have deserted my comrades, and I shall not do so a third time. You, Sir Mark, have found me worthy of honor and fellowship, and I shall honor that trust. My lance is yours, as is my life."

"This old bulldog with not die on a feathery bed of old age," Wallace growled, "As a general of Caelin, my only resting ground shall be upon the battlefield surrounded by the corpses of my enemies. I will stand by you till the end, Hammer of Terrascars."

"As will I," Kent said, much to Sain and Fiora's dismay.

"Kent?" Sain cried out, "What the devil do you think you're doing?"

"Protecting Caelin's future," Kent replied calmly, "Lady Lyndis is the heir and absolutely vital to Lord Hausen's health. In the name of honor and duty, I will stand my ground until her safe return. Sain, that injury has taken you out of the fight, and I will not suffer you to lose a leg for no reason!"

"No reason?" Sain asked, "My boon companion goes off to die and that's no reason?"

"Sir Kent…" Fiora began.

Kent grinned wryly, "With your steed injured, you cannot stay either, Dame Fiora. Besides, who else will finish that Code of Conduct I left in your tent?"

"I was not with Lord Uther when he perished," Oswin said quietly, "Nor am I with my current liege lord in his most desperate struggle. I cannot and will not face Lord Hector a defeated man. Guide my lance, Mark of Etruria!"

"Pherae will not second Ostia in this!" Lowen shouted, "I will remain and represent the knights of Pherae in battle."

"Lowen!" Marcus admonished, "This is no game! Do not simply do this out of pride or rivalry."

Amazingly, the green-haired knight shook his head rebelliously, something he had never done to his commander, "Nay, Sir Marcus, that is not the reason. All my life, I have dreamed of a name renowned and sung of across Elibe. Today is the day I embalm the tomb of so many good knights of Pherae with the eternal glory due to them. If I do not return, plant the wildflowers that spring across our homeland atop my grave."

Pain was etched upon the face of Pherae's Knight Commander, "It shall be done, Lowen."

"I will aid you as well," Hawkeye said calmly.

"Lord Hawkeye?" Pent asked while Louise gasped, "But why…?"

"Lord Athos has entered the dark confines of yonder gate to combat the demon inside," the Guardian of the Desert said, "As his servant, I shall fight to the last of my strength against his enemies. If naught is heard from me again, look after Igraine for me. She is ripe for the guardianship, though perhaps unskilled in the ways of the world."

"I promise you that it shall be done," Louise murmured as Pent shook his head in exasperation.

"I shall remain also," Renault said, "To remedy my sins, I shall repay my debts to a dead comrade in blood." His look of determination brooked no argument.

Karel looked up, "My sword was forged to end lives. I have slain those who were once closest to me in madness, so let this madness be spent laying waste to my foes."

Karla paled, and not from her injury, "Brother…"

"You're not staying here," Karel said flatly, "Await my return to our home. You have my permission to bring your boyfriend with you."

Dart was shocked when his friend next to him raised his hand, "Geitz, are you crazy?"

Geitz shrugged, "Hell with it, I'm just bored. All this talking is tedious when I could just hit something. I joined up for that reason, didn't I?"

"Then I'm coming too!"

"Err…" Geitz scratched his head, "You do know what the captain will do if you come back harmed, right?"

Dart shuddered, "Damn, you're right… Don't you dare die on me, ya hear?"

Vaida growled impatiently, "Until you give me that damnable antidote, my life is in your hands. So let's get this over with, damn it!"

Mark sighed, "Call to arms and prepare to sortie."

The army saluted, several members staying to give their last passing remarks to their long-time tactician and comrade. Heath was stopped by a certain red-haired troubadour on his way to Hyperion.

Divining her purpose in a glance, Heath's grin belied his internal melancholy, "What is it, Priscilla?"

Tears threatening to spill from her eyes, Priscilla managed to choke out one word, "Why?"

Heath sighed, "Priscilla, you know very well that a wanted fugitive such as myself could never hope to stay with a princess of your standing. The hours we spent together were the happiest of my life, hours I will cherish to the end of my days. Besides," the wyvern knight grinned, "Who said I'm dying here? Who knows? One day after I cleared my name, I may drop by and pick you up."

Priscilla smiled through her tears, "I'll hold you to that promise, Heath."

Heath pressed a kiss to the brow of the astonished troubadour, "Go now, your brother awaits."

The hopeful Priscilla completely missed the despair written in the eyes of the wyvern knight. _Ah, Priscilla, _Heath thought as he watched her figure, _little do you know this heart. Even if I wipe clean the slate of my crimes, a knight of little name could never aspire to marry one such as you. You would find far greater happiness with Erk, a man who could offer you fortune and station worthy of your title. Alas, my heart and eyes cannot bear to see you stand alongside another man. Forgive me for my selfishness and jealousy. To remove the obstacle I present to your future, I shall gladly sacrifice my misery on the altar of your happiness._

After the army began their slow retreat, there left a dozen warriors ready to sell their lives dearly to protect their comrades and loved ones.

"Look your last upon the setting sun," Mark intoned ominously, "For we shall not see it rise again."

* * *

Before the stairway leading to Dragon's Gate, another fierce struggle for life or death was about to begin. Sixteen champions, half human and half undead, were preparing for a desperate struggle for dominance. Hector had always lamented that he didn't have the opportunity to personally retire Marquis Darin. He was given that chance now. Nino and Cecilia squared off against Ursula and Kenneth respectively, none of them moving a muscle while concentrating on the imminent magical explosion. Matthew looked fit to devour Jerme alive; his eyes seemed to spit fire at the assassin standing before him. Unfortunately for the assassin, since Jerme had aspired to replace Jaffar, the undead bore an uncanny resemblance to the Angel of Death. Eliwood and Jaffar stood before Lloyd and Linus, naked steel in their hands. Lyn's Mani Katti stood ready to split in two a twisted version of Uhai. Lastly, Legault stood poised with blade ready before his one-time leader, Brendan Reed.

"Commander," Legault said at length, "Forgive this soldier's treachery one more time. I vow, by the oaths we swore the day the Black Fang was founded, I will restore you all to your disturbed rest."

At those words, the sixteen combatants exploded into battle.

Just as the fierce duels enveloped the grounds, a teleportation portal deposited Athos and Nils into the background. Uhai, who stood closest to the sudden arrivals, wavered briefly as to which foe he should attack first. Taking advantage of the morphs momentary distraction, Lyn closed the distance swiftly with Mani Katti in hand. Aware of her sudden approach, the morph lined his bow towards Lyn and fired. Deflecting the bolt, Lyn's left arm was jarred numb from the impact. Switching sword arms without pausing in her stride, Lyn was upon Uhai before a second arrow could be fired. A flash, a grunt of pain, and a morph's head lay on the ground.

Jerme and Matthew were evenly matched. Where the assassin possessed greater strength and a more deadly blade, the thief made up for it with his overwhelming speed. Their blades flashed against one another with deadly accuracy, and each time their opponent avoided the fatal blow with scarcely a second to spare. What caused Jerme the most difficulty were arguably the twin blades that Matthew fought with. Throughout the battle, Matthew fought with only one sword. But early in the battle, the thief had attempted a daring back-handed slash with a knife that would've opened the assassin's throat from ear to ear had Jerme not ducked in time. Atypical of most assassins, Jerme had used only one blade in life, a practice that the morph copied in death. Unfortunately for the undead warrior, while this battle began fairly, it certainly did not end fairly. While his entire attention was focused on the thief before him, Jerme failed to notice a certain Caelin lady stealthily approach him from behind. Well, that is until he found a Mani Katti pierced through his throat.

Hector had Darin completely at his mercy. Circling around the cumbersome morph, Hector stood safely behind the armored morph and was hacking away with his ponderous ax. Armor plating went flying at the stiff blows. Darin tried to turn around and meet his foe face to face, but Hector continued to stay behind the helpless morph, splitting armor, flesh and bone in brutal blow and blow. With a resounding crack, Hector's ax smote straight through helm and head in one double-handed blow. Unfortunately for the Ostian lord, his stout ax shattered against the impact as well.

The magical duel flashed furiously in the background. Nino and Ursula stood neck-to-neck in their determined attempts to bring the other to earth. In life, both had served under Sonia, both had earnestly sought to win her affection, and both had been disappointed. Ursula benefited from the personal training Sonia had lavished on her, while Nino was gifted by her strong filial heritage as magic users. Cecilia and Kenneth, on the other hand, was quite another story.

Cecilia, as a native of the Etrurian nation founded upon the teachings of St. Elimine, was typical of her countrymen: they abhorred false priests. Over the thousand years since the founding of Etruria, the nation had produced more priests and bishops than the rest of Elibe combined. Etrurians prided themselves on being the most devout of St. Elimine's pupils, and thus naturally hated false priests with a vengeance. Magic, besides its strong emphasis on concentration and meditation, was subject to the emotions of its wielder. Anger and fury tended to empower the spell caster's abilities to cast more damaging spells, sacrificing precision and endurance in the long run. Cecilia, however, was not the prized pupil of two legendary Etrurian tactical commanders for no reason. In her subconscious mind, she realized that a long range battle in her current mental state would end in nothing but bitter defeat. Realizing this, Cecilia closed the distance until she and Kenneth were literally attacking one another at point-blank range. At melee distance, precision was no longer an issue, and battle would be resolved through force of will alone. The morph, not comprehending the danger until it was too late, fell before Cecilia's onslaught in a shower of scorching sparks.

Hearing someone fall behind her, Ursula was distracted enough to throw a glance behind her. Nino, understanding in a flash that her opponent was unwary and off-guard, poured her last efforts into one last furious push. By the time Ursula regained her composure it was too late, as the hungry flames of Elfire turned her charred remains to ashes.

It was a race to extinction on the other side. While Jaffar was superior to Linus in battle, Lloyd was unquestionable more than Eliwood could handle alone. Both sides knew that whoever fell first would yield the victory to the other side. The difference, perhaps, was the mentality that both sides portrayed. Eliwood, knowing that he could not match Lloyd as a swordsman, played the implacable defender. Never going on the offensive despite Lloyd's intentional mistakes and baiting weaknesses, Eliwood maintained his defensive procedure, wishing to drag out their duel until Jaffar finished off Linus and came to aid him. Linus, a pale reflexion of the hotheaded youth he was in life, scorned to hide behind a wall of defense, choosing instead to meet the Angel of Death blade for blade. Jaffar's face was nothing but an impenetrable mask of stoicism the moment he made his fatal plunge, digging both blades into his opponent's chest. Together, he and Eliwood then proceeded to bear Lloyd to the earth in a frenzy of blade work.

Throughout the pandemonium that raged all around them, Brendan and Legault did not move a muscle. Morphs made in the likeness of man perished beneath the victorious swords of the lords and their companions. Yet neither Brendan nor Legault made to aid their comrades in their respective struggles. When the last morph collapsed, Legault actually laughed aloud.

"Ha, and to think I was getting cold feet at fighting my old commander," Legault chuckled, "Yes, the old Hurricane would've walked straight into the fires of hell rather than raise his sword against his commander and comrades. Yet here I am standing here debating whether its truly my commander in front of me."

"…" The morph made no reply, merely raising his ax.

"Aye, I would've faltered if ordered to strike down one of my closest friends," Legault continued, "That was what separated me from the Four Fangs, the true reason why I was always considered second to them in name and fame. But you are not Brendan Reed. The true Brendan Reed would've stopped at nothing to save his sons and precious friends, for he was a man who valued fellowship and comrades over everything else. You simply stood here, completely ignoring the deaths of your 'friends.' That is what separates the two of you, why you will be simply a morph while he was a true man."

The morph remained silent, though he shifted his ax before charging forward.

"If I was fighting against the true Brendan, I would never be able to raise my blade against him," Legault's eyes hardened, "But in his memory, I will your abominable carcass into pieces. Farewell!"

As the last word left Legault's lips, the thief dashed forward to meet the morph's charge. Brendan smote downwards with his powerful ax, watching emotionlessly as the blade rent through the fabric of the thief's cloak. Oddly, no blood or gored flesh remained in the confines of the cloth.

A small rustle sounded, and Legault dropped lightly to the ground half a dozen yards behind his one-time chief. Turning like a raging boar, Brendan stormed towards the Hurricane with his ax held in both hands. Legault merely turned around, gazed sorrowfully at the creature before snapping his fingers.

Blood suddenly dripped down the muscled torso as the morph collapsed in a heap before Legault's outstretched hands. The decapitated head rolled gruesomely on the ground for a few seconds before coming to a stop. Strangely, the head was smiling serenely, as if the dead had finally departed for afterlife.

"Rest in peace," Legault said as he closed the eyelids of his mentor and friend.

* * *

Athos moved forward with Nils to greet the victors, "Congratulations on your victory."

Hector nodded slightly, "There you are, old man. We could've had an easier time if you showed up sooner with the weapons."

"I could have done so, but what would it have proved?" Athos asked, "That you can only conquer armed with the millennia-old steel?"

"Perhaps it was another test of our worthiness," Eliwood replied, "Though time is of the essence here. I fear we have wasted too much time in dealing with Nergal's henchmen. Is it too late to stop him?"

"No," Athos answered, "The dragons have not been summoned. Should he attempt such folly, he does not have enough quintessence to control the beasts, which runs contrary to his wishes. He will want to eliminate the group attacking him for their quintessence."

"Which means us," Hector said grimly, "But he'll find that we are not easy prey."

"In the meantime," Athos waved his hands to bring the three weapons forward, "I've brought items to counter Nergal's might: Durandal for Eliwood, Armads for Hector and the Sol Katti for Lyndis. The Sol Katti is not quite as powerful as the others, but it in itself is still a blessed weapon. Use them wisely."

"What about you, Lord Athos?" Eliwood asked, "Forblaze did not harm Nergal too much when…"

"That is true," Athos agreed, "So I borrowed the Aureola tome of St. Elimine for this purpose."

"Wait," Lyn said suddenly, "You have Nils here, so that means you've visited Drake and the others…"

Athos and Nils exchanged a glance, "I have, and they are hard pressed to defend themselves. I fear they will not survive if Nergal is not dealt with in a timely manner."

"Then we don't have a moment to lose," Hector declared, "Let's go!"

* * *

_After a fearsome battle in Spain, Charlemagne's army was returning home. Roland was designated as the rearguard with twenty thousand men. The Moors, or the Islamic armies they were fighting against, challenged Roland's rearguard to battle. Blowing his horn to summon reinforcements, Roland led his men into battle. Charlemagne did not return until Roland had blown his horn for the 3rd time and last time, for the valiant knight perished shortly after sounding the horn. Charlemagne's host decimated the enemy to avenge the fall of Roland._

_I thank everyone for reading thus far and please excuse the liberties I took with the storyline. I saved Nergal's exchange for the next chapter, so I hope I see y'all then!_


	25. Judgment

_Author's Corner:_

_After a considerable struggle with myself (my conscience was biting), I finally bring you the last chapter of Hammer of Terrascars. Mark's situation was difficult to write and trying to incorporate the situation against Nergal was very tiring. (get pelted by tomatoes of protest) Ok, I'll give you the chapter and stop whining now!_

_Anyways, sit back and enjoy the show!_

* * *

**Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 24**

**Judgment**

_Steps to Dragon's Gate,_

A curious spectacle they were, all huddled by the great stone doors leading to their nemesis. Before the great stone carvings that depicted the mighty scaled beasts of bygone times, the small company halted to catch their breaths. Pale faces drawn by exhaustion gazed at one another, illuminated by the flicker of determination sparked in their eyes. Eliwood and Hector glanced at one another, sheathed their weapons before applying themselves to the gargantuan doors. With a groan of protest, the stone slabs slid aside to reveal a dark entryway that led down several hundred steps to Dragon's Gate itself.

"We're finally here," Nils said softly.

Eliwood nodded grimly, "We fled from here once, but I vow we shall not do so again."

"We leave only with Nergal's head on a platter," Hector affirmed.

Cecilia noted Lyn's white-knuckled grip on the Sol Katti, "Be at ease, Lady Lyndis. Sir Mark has never lost a battle against such trifling odds. I wager that the first thing he asks us when we emerge triumphantly will be, 'What took you so long?'"

Lyn smiled slightly, "Thanks, I needed that."

Just as Athos was about to lead the companions through the doorway, Matthew suddenly spoke, "Wait, we seem to be one short… Where's Guy?"

Hector turned around, "When did he go missing…?"

"I didn't see him during our encounter with the morphs," Cecilia recalled, "Then again, in the heat of the battle, we scarcely had time to notice."

"At any rate, the man isn't craven," Eliwood said, "He must've had his reason."

"A… damn good… reason…"

"The hell?" Matthew whirled around to find Guy bleeding from several long slashes, "What in the gods' name happened to you?"

"Morphs," Guy bit out, "Several of them returned to Dragon's Gate, probably due to Nergal's summons. I took out a trio of swordsmen before the rest tried to jump me."

Legault looked up sharply, "Does that mean the entire army is coming back?"

Everyone knew what Legault's words implied. Should the entire morph army return, there spelled two very obvious results. First, their small group would be insufficient to combat such an army; secondly, Mark's group was defeated in battle.

"I'm not sure," Guy said as he accepted a vulnerary Nino handed him, "I do know that there are at least several dozen morphs headed this way. They'll be at this door in a matter of minutes."

"We cannot stay and give battle," Cecilia said calmly, "So I will have to emulate Sir Mark for a while."

"Cecilia?" Lyn asked.

"Milords, milady, Lord Athos, and Nils," Cecilia said, "Hurry inside and deal with Nergal, we'll hold this door for you."

"You and what army?" Hector asked incredulously.

Cecilia shook her head sadly, "My mentor would be more than willing to die for his comrades. As his student, I would shame his memory if I did anything less. Now make haste!"

Eliwood nodded. Hector gritted his teeth in anger, "Don't you dare die on me, wannabe!" With that the two of them hurtled into the darkness.

Lyn stayed only to say two words, "Good luck." She was followed quickly by Athos and Nils.

"Now," Cecilia said slowly to the remaining five people around her, "How long do you think we can last?"

"Depends on how much they think we are worth. A worthy foe tends to last longer than weaklings, I should think." Legault said as the first morph rounded the corner, "I think the market price for a good blade is around two thousand?"

"Two Elfire tomes at fifteen hundred apiece," Nino added as Jaffar closed the doors.

Matthew said, "Pathetic enemy carcasses pooling at our feet are free." His twin daggers stood naked in the dim light.

"If we pool our freedoms against their pointless existence, that'll balance the scales," Guy began, a fatal blade twirled nimbly across his fingers.

"Everlasting glory to the victors, however," Cecilia finished, "Is priceless."

* * *

A familiar sight greeted the five companions as memories concerning their first visit to Dragon's Gate replayed themselves in their minds. The architecture was the same as it was before, the great slabs of marble and stone still sat snugly in their positions, undisturbed by weather or mold. Upon those great stones, hieroglyphics of foreign markings seemed to be even fainter than before. Four titanic towers that stood sentinel over the great stone bridge that led to the Dragon's Gate were lit with an ominous flare that seemed to share the bleakness of the shadows rather than serving to banish them. Bathed in this dark light, the bottom of the stairway revealed the hooded figure of the Dark Necromancer, Nergal.

"So, the brave champions of Elibe stand before me," Nergal sneered, "I see that you are quite few in numbers. I trust you found my welcome hospitable enough?"

Hector smirked thinly, "They were a pain in the ass, but nothing that we couldn't handle."

"As for numbers," Lyn said tranquilly, "Certainly it should be expected. After all, Elibe required 8 Heroes to save humanity from the threat of the dragons. Accordingly, Elibe only needed the five of us to deal with an infinitely more trivial threat such as yourself."

Nergal growled, "Trivial? How dare you call…?"

"Silence," Eliwood's voice curtailed Nergal's indignant reply with ice-cold proficiency, "I lost both Father and Ninian to you, Nergal, and it is time for you to pay off that debt in blood."

"You pitiful scum cannot hope to even harm me," Nergal leered at the group before stopping his gaze upon Athos, "Athos, my old friend, so you have come as well."

"Indeed I have," the Archsage said slowly, "I have come to remedy a mistake. Forgive me, my friend, for I made a grave mistake in the past when we last met."

"Truly now?" Nergal said, "Have you finally seen the futility of such words such as faith and hope? Have you at last come to the rightful conclusion that the pursuit of absolute power is the immortal truth?"

Athos shook his head slowly, "Power is the root of madness, Nergal. The reason I seek your forgiveness is for the blow I dealt you 500 years ago."

Nergal slowly unraveled his turban, revealing the grotesque injury that ran over his right eye, "A trivial matter indeed. This injury taught me the true difference between you and I, my friend. Why apologize when this only served to make me stronger? I learned from this betrayal that friendship and trust were naught by cruel veils for treachery and lies."

"I apologize," Athos repeated, "For only inflicting you with this injury. As your friend, it is my solemn duty to correct you when you've trodden the wrong path. Blinded by our past comradeship, I was unable to exercise the necessary actions to administer your correction."

"And what was that?"

"Death," Athos said, cold fury edging into his voice for the first time, "Had my heart not been blinded by our fellowship at Arcadia, I could've terminated your evil trek into the darkness. If only I was firmer then, so many good lives could've been saved. In that regard, I sorely wished I retained the stubbornness and righteousness of Roland, who would not have hesitated to do what was right. Here I make my amends."

At the last word, Eliwood raised the Durandal in both hands. To his left, Lyn unsheathed the Sol Katti and Mani Katti and assumed a fighter's stance. To his right, Hector picked up Armads in one hand, letting the gigantic ax rest across his shoulders. Athos stood behind the trio, starting to concentrate his magical energies into the two spell tomes that lay at his fingertips.

Nergal's robes billowed outwards as the necromancer unleashed a feral grin at his challengers. A pale, bony hand snaked out of his robes clutching a tome long thought to be lost since the days of the Scouring. Ereshkigal, the ancient druids named it, after the fallen angel that guards the entrance to the Abyss, portal to the graveyard of the devoured souls from the War of the Gods. Limitless innocent lives were sacrificed to appease the demon in order to entice the secrets of the tome's dark magic, appearing in the mortal realm as purple thunder. Though Ereshkigal boasted of considerable power, it was nevertheless inferior to the dreaded force of Apocalypse, the tome wielded by the mysterious Brammimond. The gods alone knew what was used to create such a weapon. Some questions were not made for mortal men to ask.

At Eliwood's signal, the three Lycian lords charged into combat from three different sides. Behind Eliwood, Athos continued to gather his strength for a quick succession of spells to trap Nergal within the trio of weapons.

Nergal, well aware that he could handle any one of the three but not all at the same time, retreated from the encroaching circle. Charging a spell in hand, he quickly launched the orb of shadowy lightning at Eliwood. The Pheraen Lord caught the spell across the Durandal and was hurtled back with a strained grunt.

Not lessening the pressure in the slightest, Hector bound across the distance like an enraged tiger. Slashing a furious blow where Nergal was, Hector conveniently forced Nergal into Lyn's waiting blades. Wielding the Mani Katti and Sol Katti dually, Lyn scored several quick slashes through Nergal's robes. When the necromancer attempted to counterattack, he was forced to backtrack again as a well-timed Forblaze spell splashed upon the stones where he stood but a moment before.

"Miserable worms," Nergal rasped with an oath, "Perish!"

Directing his palms downwards, Nergal unleashed Ereshkigal upon the ground below. Taking advantage of the explosion, Nergal drifted backwards, carried by the draft while Lyn and Hector were obscured in smoke and falling rocks. His victorious smirk died instantly as Nergal noticed his terrible mistake. Ereshkigal had vaporized stone and marble alike, throwing up a dark cloud of debris that severely obscured vision. Nergal was, after all, a magician; magicians were not well equipped to handle situations with limited senses.

"Swift as the howling winds," Lyn's voice drifted through the dense smoke as Hector stormed through the darkness behind Nergal, Armads raised for the kill.

Nergal turned his attention towards him, but Hector's pounding footsteps already told him that the Lord of Ostia was already too close. Gambling on the outcome, Nergal blindly turned around with his hands ready with an Ereshkigal spell. Fortunately, the spell was not a moment too soon. Armads was mere seconds away from cleaving Nergal in half when Ereshkigal splashed against the Legendary Weapon. Flung back, Hector retreated for the moment.

"Fierce as the scorching flame," Lyn's voice continued as Nergal barely caught sight of Eliwood racing towards him out of the corner of his eye. Much swifter than Hector, Eliwood swung the Durandal forward when he was several yards away. Allowing momentum to do the work, the Durandal bit deeply into Nergal's left thigh. Biting back a screech of pain, Nergal was unable to retaliate as Eliwood continued past him into the surrounding shadows.

Even as the rubbish began to clear, Lyn continued, "Illusive as the myriad forests." The Mani Katti came flying, blade first, towards Nergal's face. Nergal raised a hand to intercept the deadly projectile, but his subconscious mind screamed at his mistake. Too late did he notice Lyn gliding in from the opposite direction, Sol Katti aimed for his heart. As he tried valiantly to back away from the trap, Nergal felt a spike in magical power focusing from his back.

Aureola blasted into Nergal with the force of ten burning suns. Light and dark are naturally enemies, each capable of injuring the other more capably than any other element. Athos had refrained from attacking precisely because mages can sense one another's gathering spell powers, which would reveal his location to Nergal.

"Stalwart as the imposing mountains," Lyn finished as the haze finally cleared, revealing the three lords and the Archsage standing around a kneeling Nergal.

"So you think you've won?" Nergal cackled, "Even in my death, despair will come to this world!"

"So be it," Eliwood said darkly as Durandal pierced Nergal's bosom.

As the dark druid slowly sank down in death, the five conquerors noticed a shimmering light gathering in the corpse's robes. Faster than they could react, the remaining quintessence threw itself at the Dragon's Gate itself. The dark door flared to life as monstrous roars filled the cavern.

"Damn," Hector swore as dragons emerged from the Gate, "I assume that is the despair he was talking about."

"A final curse," Athos said, "Should he perish before his goal was attained, any quintessence still available would be used to open the portal."

"There are only three at the moment," Nils piped up, "But more could be coming any minute now!"

Eliwood shook his head, "Even if there are only three, I doubt we can handle them. But we must try!"

One of the dragons raised his head and fired a terrible blast of flame at the quintet. Athos strode forward and raised his arms, shielding the group from the hungry flames. After a few moments, the flames died away, but the shield buckled momentarily afterwards.

"So strong…" Athos panted, "Are we able to handle them?"

**"Perhaps I can render a little assistance."**

The five turned around to see Brammimond walking slowly towards them. Gesturing slowly, the enigma summoned another person into the area by means of a teleportation portal. Everyone save Athos and Brammimond gasped at the sight.

"Ninian?" Nils asked.

"How is it possible?" Hector said in disbelief.

**"Awaken child, and return to this world," **Brammimond said, **"Recall your past strength and banish these children of fire."**

While everyone's attention was fixated on the reviving Ninian, Athos thought he beheld a third figure that remained motionless at the top of the steps leading to the exit. Nils and the lords were engrossed in the resurrection of someone long thought lost and paid no attention to the Archsage.

Ninian's eyes gradually opened, "Where… am I?"

The shouts of joy and relief turned Athos' attention briefly back to the group. By the time Athos redirected his gaze towards the mysterious onlooker, the person was gone. _Could I have imagined its presence? It would not be the first time, _Athos thought tiredly, _Brammimond, what are you plotting? Why burden yourself with the thankless job of returning the Child of Fate?_ Further thought was cut short as Ninian quite spectacularly obliterated two of the three dragons. Athos suspected that Brammimond had temporarily lent her a part of his powers, but kept silent.

* * *

The remainder of the battle passed like a blur for Lyn. First came Ninian's revival and her subsequent thrashing of the two dragons. Then came the last desperate battle waged against a gigantic, scaly, fire-breathing, tough-as-hell, _thing_ that simply refused to die. How Ninian managed to squish two of them at the same time with only one spell was beyond Lyn's comprehension. After Ninian vanquished the two dragons, Brammimond withdrew his support and quitted the field, leaving those who remained to cope the best they could. The weariness displayed in Eliwood and Hector testified to the daunting task they underwent.

With a hoarse battle cry, Hector ended the dangerous battle with one last swing. Hacking deep into the dragon's throat, Hector sprang away as the scaly beast collapsed in a heap before Dragon's Gate. The two lords panted in exhaustion as they leaned against the Legendary Weapons.

"It's finally over," Eliwood gasped as he looked towards Ninian.

"Yeah," Hector agreed as he turned around with a yawn, "I wonder how the others are do…"

"Hector! Behind!"

"Wha-?"

Hector turned around to see a not quite dead dragon bearing its fangs for another molten blast. With no time to dodge, the torrent of flame engulfed the blue-haired lord in an instant. The Ostian closed his eyes to accept his doom.

_I'm dead, _Hector thought as he cracked open one eye, "Oh, damn…"

Athos held another magical shield in front of the young lord, though clearly the Archsage was on his last dredges. The shield cracked and splintered in multiple areas before shattering a small hole in the middle. A river of fire struck Athos in the chest, throwing the Archsage to his knees. Fortunately, Lyn and Eliwood were able to squeak around the flames and part the dragon's head from its body. Finally dead, the beast moved no more.

"Lord Athos!" Everyone exclaimed.

"It appears… that my time has come," Athos said with a smile, "Forsooth, I have lived for too long as it is. Now I can finally rest in the company of my comrades, where I can dwell without shame."

"Greybeard…" Hector said.

"One last gift I shall impart to all of thee," Athos said haltingly, "Take heed of my warning, Sons of Roland and Daughter of Hanon and Roland. Darkness will enshroud Elibe once more from the east, though hope will spring anew from Lycia…" The Archsage coughed, blood drifting down his pale lips.

"Lord Athos!"

"Nay, it passes, it passes," Athos' eyes widened slightly, "Brammimond, what have you done…? Will you raze the lands of Elibe in attempt to rid Hartmut's Choice?"

Eliwood's eyebrows knitted in confusion, "What?"

"This I bequeath to the three of you," Athos fumbled as he drew out four leather pouches, "One here is for the Daughter of Elimine that remains outside. Open them only in times of great peril…" Athos' voice suddenly changed as he recited four lines,

_**A thousand years since the last Reckoning,**_

_**Unleash the flames of a second Scouring.**_

_**Unbent, unbowed, undaunted,**_

_**Fear not the wrath of Winter Unending.**_

"Lord Athos?" Eliwood asked in amazement, but his voice trailed off as she noticed the Archsage was no longer breathing.

"What happened?"

"Cecilia!" Nils exclaimed, "You're alright!"

Cecilia grinned tiredly as she led Matthew, Guy, Jaffar and Nino before Dragon's Gate, "I was counting on the defeat of Nergal would mean the end of the morphs as well. After the morphs dissolved into dust and were blown to the winds, I knew you were success…" Cecilia's eyes widened as she pointed behind them, "Dragon's Gate is opened?"

"Unfortunately so," Hector said grimly, "Nergal opened the gate as Eliwood slew him."

"The gate must be closed from the other side," Nils declared, "And it is time I returned to tell of our journey!"

"'I?'" Ninian asked, "Do you not mean 'we?'"

Nils shook his head, "Ninian, be reasonable. You'll be miserable without Lord Eliwood," he grinned when they blushed, "Stay here and fulfill the dream that our parents dreamt would be possible: where dragons and humans can dwell together in peace."

"Nils…" Ninian said sadly.

"Nils," Eliwood said, "Thank you."

Nils nodded his head in inclination, "Hey people, don't look so glum! I'm a bard, remember? It is my job to sing of great epics and legendary sagas. When I return home, I will have a worthy tale to tell of for generations!" With a merry laugh, the boy leapt into Dragon's Gate, staying only to catch Ninian with his eyes.

"Remember, sister," Nils said in a tone that belied his age, "Our bond cannot be severed by space or time…"

With that, Nils, Child of Destiny, was gone.

The pulsating power of Dragon's Gate faded, and all was quiet.

* * *

The morning sun shown over the conquerors as they stepped out of the ruins. Never more to be activated, Ninian had sealed Dragon's Gate, ensuring that the portal would never be opened. However, though the group had triumphed over Nergal and his ambitions, a sour aftertaste lingered in their mouths as they viewed the morning sun. Their quest had started yesterday evening and they finally accomplished their task after an entire night's struggle. The thought that trailed the mind of everyone there was, _What of Mark and his brave rearguard?_

After spending a candle mark traversing the treacherous terrain of Valor Isle, Lyn and her companions came upon the remnants of the battlefield. Piles of armor, clothing and weapons lay scattered about, a testament to the number of morphs that participated in this battle. Though the actual bodies of the morphs disintegrated with the death of Nergal, their equipment remained behind.

"What a ghastly sight," Matthew commented, "Though I think this was where the primary army made its stand. Mark would know that this area is impossible to defend with a small rearguard."

"Signs of retreat," Legault remarked as he doubled back from his tracking, "It appears that the army is largely intact. The tracks showed a steady train of men and women unhampered by enemy pursuit."

Cecilia nodded, "Which means Sir Mark was able to deter the enemy from pursuing. Based on this, I'd say he deployed his force somewhere between the retreating army and the morphs, though in a more defensible location…" Cecilia was glancing upwards.

"What are you looking at, Cecilia?" Hector asked.

"That," Cecilia paled as she pointed.

The group turned to look towards a small stone hill that was surrounded with empty suits of armor and chain mail. Weapons littered the hillside, along with the carcasses of several wyverns and horses. Upon viewing the top of the hill, Eliwood, Hector, Lyn, and Matthew visibly paled at the sight.

Nino didn't understand, "What are you looking at…?"

"Take a look at the topmost suit of armor on that hill," Matthew pointed.

Guy squinted at the target, "Dull bronze color of an armored knight, I think. Some kind of crest on the chest that looks like an ax crossed with a sword…" Then it hit him, "Crap…"

"Oswin." Hector said as he scrambled up the hill, followed closely by his companions.

When the group reached the top of the hill, the scene was enough to drop their hearts to their stomach. The area, dotted by a small patch of trees in the back, was literally _covered _in ruined armor and shredded boiled leather. Two hulking suits of armor remained standing, albeit covered in arrows and with half a dozen lances pierced through them. The armor plates had become so worn out throughout the lengthy battle that their thickness was compromised. It was beyond a doubt that both Wallace and Oswin were dead.

The butcher's bill continued to build higher. Draped over several rocks were the mangled corpses of Hyperion and Umbriel. From the state of their injuries, they apparently ran afoul a barrage of magic. Their respective master and mistress were not within sight. A destrier also lay slain near the other beasts. Lowen was found beneath a pile of boiled leather than nearly obscured him save for his distinctive green hair.

The bishop and ax-wielders fared no better. Hawkeye remained on one knee, nearly a dozen swords stabbed into him with another three dozen broken around him. Geitz was lying cold and stiff with a lance through his middle, pinning him to the ground. They were standing to the right of the prone armor knights, trying to ward off a group of flanking foes. Renault lay in a pool of blood surrounded by ax bearing foes that hewn him down.

"Lady… Lyndis?"

Lyn whirled around at the choked voice. Only one retainer amongst all her comrades and friends was allowed to address her full title without suffering her displeasure.

"Kent?"

The Crimson Shield was pinned to a tree with a lance through his right shoulder. Due to the blood that splashed over the tree trunk and another destrier over his left thigh, the group had missed him during their arrival. Without a second to lose, Nino and Cecilia hurriedly tended to the knight's grievous injuries.

"Milady…" Kent gasped as Legault gingerly drew out the lance.

"Kent," Lyn said with tears in her eyes, "What the heck are you doing here?"

"I…" the wounded knight said, "Swore an oath to Lord Hausen… Never to rest or retreat until… Lady Lyndis was safe again in Caelin…"

"You fool," Lyn chided as she wiped away her tears, "You're lucky to survive this with only a lance through your shoulder. Can you stand?"

"With only the right leg?" Jaffar said monotonously.

Everyone save Jaffar and Kent gasped as they saw the wound. Covered by the destrier's carcass, they failed to notice that Kent's left leg was severed below the knee.

"What the hell happened?" Eliwood asked shakily as Cecilia went over the crude bandaging Kent had applied to his appendage.

"We failed to hold the morphs on the plain," Kent reported, "In the mid-afternoon, Sir Drake ordered the majority of the army to disengage and retreat to the _Davros_. A rearguard remained to stall the enemy until the army escaped."

"Why didn't you all escape?" Nino asked as she poured a vulnerary into the shoulder wound.

Kent grimaced, "Impossible. If the entire army retreated, the morphs would return to Dragon's Gate. Sir Drake reasoned that there was little chance the lords could content with Nergal _and_ several hundred morphs."

"We took too damn long," Hector growled.

"By some miracle of St. Elimine we held out for the rest of the afternoon," Kent continued, "But the defense was swept away at dusk. Caught by surprise, Sir Heath and Dame Vaida were bombarded out of the sky by long range magic. I believe Dame Vaida fell to her death, crushed beneath Umbriel. Sir Heath broke his leg during the tumble down the hillside, and the enemy swept over him."

"That'd explain why we missed Heath on the way up," Guy said dismally, "He fell on the other side."

"Sir Oswin and General Wallace held back the enemy for the better part of a candle mark, but their armor became too… too worn out," Kent faltered from the blood loss, but continued on valiantly, "Lances and arrows penetrated their armor, but they fought on anyways. Sir Lowen and I attempted to aid them, but we were separated by a ballista. It was during the confusion that someone took my shin guard from the side with an ax. In pain, I tugged on the right side of the reins, never guessing that saved my life. A dark magic spell splashed where I was a moment before, the impact killing my horse and throwing me here. A stray javelin pinned me to the tree."

Legault shook his head, "We'd never had made it if Mark didn't make this sacrifice."

"I believe Geitz, Lord Hawkeye, Karel and His Excellency perished when the morphs outflanked us from the right," Kent said, "But I was immobilized and did not see the battle. I could only hear… hear… the screaming."

Lyn winced slightly, but her eyes bore into Kent, "Kent, where is he?"

Kent looked away, "Milady…"

"Where is _he_?" Lyn screamed, despair in her voice, "Where is Drake?"

"Lyn…" Hector said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Where?"

Kent gulped, "The tide of enemies flooded past General Wallace, Sir Oswin, and Sir Lowen. They passed to my left and I heard Sir Drake challenge them to combat. From our earlier battle during the day, I'd assume he lashed himself to a tree while fighting with a lance in hand. The sounds of battle continued for nearly a candle mark when a dark druid appeared. He strode to the area of battle and began a spell. I turned my head to see the spell launching, but could not ascertain the extent of damage. All I know is…"

"Is…?" Lyn pressed on.

Kent took a deep breath, "The current from the explosion was deafening. All sounds of combat ceased when the spell made contact. I fear Sir Drake may not have…"

Hector, Lyn, and Eliwood did not wait to hear more. The trio sprinted off to the area that Kent described. Lyn, being the swiftest of the three, tore through trail left by the morphs until she stopped, willing her eyes to tell her that the sight before her was a lie.

When Eliwood and Hector arrived, they found Lyn sobbing terribly while beating her fists upon the ground.

Against a great oak tree, a gigantic gouge was formed alongside its fifty foot tall trunk and a discarded lance at its roots. The first fifteen feet of the trough was painted red, with several scrapped pieces of a cloak clinging to the rough bark. To the side of the deep gouge, a dismembered left arm was nailed to the tree by two javelins. Upon seeing the grisly member, Hector began swearing a blue streak while Eliwood looked away as tears streamed down his cheeks.

The hand was gloved in a steel gauntlet forged in the fiery smiths of Etruria. Thought to be lost in the sands of Nabata, Hawkeye had returned the armor piece when the army ventured in quest of the Shrine of Seals. It bore sigil that smote fear into the hearts of those evil and impure of heart.

_**I will be Death, the hatred and wrath of vengeance. **_

_**I shall become the darkness and mystery, the Nameless General of Etruria. **_

_**Let my hammer and spear bring despair to every enemy of our country.**_

The crossed hammer and lance sparkled in the sunlight.

* * *

_Drum roll please. (waits in vain for the drummer) OK, forget that._

_OMG, Hammer of Terrascars is over! (gasp) Well, not quite, there is still an epilogue. Thank you for reading and please review!_


	26. Epilogue

_Author's Corner:_

_I thank everyone for their fabulous reviews and support. This project would not have much with such success without all of your timely encouragement. The following will conclude Hammer of Terrascars, but there will be numerous references to the sequel. Though the groundwork has been laid for the Legacy, it probably won't make its way to this website until early December._

_

* * *

_

**Hammer of Terrascars – Epilogue**

_July 14th, Castle Ostia,_

_Despite the army's narrow triumph over the twisted schemes of Nergal on Valor, the rest of Elibe slept soundly in their beds, unaware of how thin the thread was from which doom hung. Our valiant efforts and sacrifices would go unsung in the halls of kings and lords, destined to remain a closely guarded secret amongst the families of the conquerors._

_Certainly the citizens of Ostia did not betray the signs of unease or unrest with the return of the reigning marquis. Though the passing of Lord Uther remained on their minds, the ascension of Lord Hector served as a reminder that Ostia would continue to lead the rest of the Lycian League. Hundreds of thousands of Lycians crowded the streets of Ostia to watch Lord Hector's coronation ceremony._

_The survivors of the Valor campaign attended in mass, although with the notable exceptions of several members. The ex-Black Fang members, such as Legault, Jaffar, and Nino, took their leave during the previous night. Kent, still incapacitated by his injury, was excused from the ceremony. He protested vehemently that he was fit for duty, but reluctantly agreed when Fiora opted to stay and watch over the wounded knight. Rath and Guy both returned to Sacae, for reasons they chose not to elaborate upon. Oddly enough, Raven chose to stay for the coronation even after expressing his negative sentiments towards Lord Hector during the journey._

_I am currently standing at the window of my second floor room that overlooks the courtyard. Here I command an entire view of this area, including a perfect angle to see Lord Hector ascend the steps and allow the archbishop to formally inaugurate his reign. Even in this joyful moment, I can feel sorrow steal over me as I view the holes scattered here and there throughout our company._

_Seated second to only foreign dignitaries and congratulatory rulers, the army was located not twenty yards from the raised dais. Retainers and mercenaries alike sat together with Lord Eliwood and Lady Lyndis, though everyone bore signs of grief. It was certainly not easy to accept the death of so many goodly knights and valiant warriors, especially when each and every one of them engraved themselves in our memories. The honorable dead were brought back to Ostia, where they slept in the Royal Crypt until their proper burial. However, since we found no evidence suggesting the death of Karel, I still live in hopes that he too survived the campaign._

_My eyes drift down towards an age-worn and weathered journal. Having finished reading the memoirs of my late mentor the previous evening, I have struggled with myself in regards to the fate of this information. Should I make this known to Lady Lyndis, or should I eradicate all traces of this manuscript? After a lengthy debate with my conscience, I have come to the conclusion that this diary shall be secretly preserved. I will not sully Lady Lyndis' affection memories of Sir Mark with tales of his guilt and despair. Let her forever recall him as Drake, Master Tactician of Etruria and not as Mark Valshannar, sacker of cities and slayer of innocents._

_The applause below me has peaked in its crescendo, signaling the conclusion of the coronation. Glancing below, I see Lord Hector raising his hands to acknowledge the crowd. Ostian knights are bending the knee, swearing fealty to Ostia incarnate. Tradition dictates that the newly crowned Ostian lord makes a toast to the birth of a new era, and Lord Hector is no exception. I admit his words were nothing like I imagined._

_"My brother was still in his prime when the gods saw fit to take him into their folds. In his memory, I solemnly swear to continue his policies and bring peace and prosperity to Lycia. Yet while we strive for peace, there will inevitably be agents of chaos within our ranks. To guard our doors and safeguard our people, we must remain vigilant to the end of our days. I quaff this goblet in memory of," here he paused briefly, "A Nameless General. May he lend us his valor and wisdom should war ever march upon our homeland. Amen."_

_Consternation raged unchecked after Lord Hector drained his chalice…_

_

* * *

_

Cecilia was interrupted by an urgent knocking sounded upon the door leading to Cecilia's room. Abandoning her pen, Cecilia quitted her chair and stretched slightly. Slipping both journals into a pouch by her side, the tactician slowly walked to the door with confusion displayed on her features. _Who could possibly interrupt me at this hour?_

The door opened to yield a breathless Ostian soldier. From the sweat pouring down his face, the young man had apparently covered a great distance wearing his cumbersome armor plating. The young man carefully examined the female before him before asking, "Are you, Lady Cecilia of Etruria?"

"Yes," Cecilia answered cautiously, "And why do you ask?"

"Lady Cecilia, my name is Arthur," the soldier explained in a rush, "I was assigned the guard of the Royal Crypt over the deceased this morning. There is something urgent that you must see personally!"

Cecilia frowned, "Lead the way, Arthur. Please explain on the way."

The two hurried through the densely packed hallways of Castle Ostia. Lord Hector's speech had certainly riled up the attendees, throwing confusion amok in the castle. Every coronation speech in the past had always foretold tranquility and wealth to Lycia, and Hector's premonition of woe and battle was certainly unappetizing.

"I was to relieve old Duncan roughly half a candle mark ago," Arthur explained as his long strides navigated through the halls, "However, when I arrived there with two brothers-in-arms, we found Duncan slumped over his table, apparently asleep. The problem was that we could not awaken him!"

"Perhaps someone slipped him a healing draught?"

Arthur shook his head, "Impossible. Old Duncan is a steel suit of armor on legs. He _never _eats or drinks while on duty. Besides, we found no evidence of any liquid on him. We did find a magical staff of some sort abandoned at his feet."

Cecilia sucked in a breath, "Sleeping spell then. What are you trying to tell me?"

"Lady Cecilia," the young soldier gulped, "You do recall the three cumbersome chests you deposited in the Royal Crypt along with the coffins?"

A cold lance of fear streaked up Cecilia's spine, "You don't mean…?"

Arthur nodded grimly, "We're here. Take a look for yourself."

In the Royal Crypt, Cecilia's eyes widened. Everything in the Royal Crypt was undisturbed, save for the disappearance of Mark's writings. Three rectangles uncovered by dust bore evidence where the chests were placed. On the ground, there were no signs of disturbance save for the occasionally footprint.

Cecilia frowned, "These footprints are yours?"

Arthur nodded, "All of these either belong to myself or my friends. This is what compounds the question. Duncan's shift is two candle marks starting from dawn, which means any thief who removed these chests _must_ have disturbed the dust on the ground! Yet when we arrived here, there was no disturbances at all save for the missing chests."

"Is there anything else amiss?"

Arthur nodded, "One more thing. Take a look at the wall over yonder that is half obscured by the suits of armor. We moved the armor for your benefit."

Cecilia turned to look. Her eyes widened even further at the words magically engraved upon the wall.

_**A thousand years since the last Reckoning,**_

_**Unleash the flames of a second Scouring.**_

_**Unbent, unbowed, undaunted,**_

_**Fear not the wrath of Winter Unending.**_

"Impossible…" Cecilia murmured.

* * *

_July 21st, throne room of Castle Bern,_

King Desmond tapped his left index finger impatiently on the arm of the throne as Murdock brought the latest candidate for Zephidel's tutor before the king. The man was hooded so that his face was unseen, his left hand gripped tightly around a crutch while the right held a thick tome. Murdock seemed to have all the patience in the world at the tutor's painfully slow gait, but Desmond's patience was wearing thin.

Finally, after taking nearly ten minutes to cross perhaps twenty yards and endure the poorly disguised laughter from the courtiers, Murdock led his charge before the king. The man unveiled his hood, revealing a somewhat wizened face covered by an unruly mop of gray hair. He panted hoarsely and seemed ready to fall from his expedition into the palace.

"This is the man?" Desmond raised an eyebrow slightly, "This is the man who is considered to be the greatest literary figure in our entire realm?"

"My liege," Murdock bowed, "Your orders were to find the greatest intellectual in all of Bern. Master Xavier's writings soundly defeated all other masters of lore in a week's worth of testing and screening. He has dedicated almost all of his fifty years of life to the study of…"

"Fifty? Ha!" A young courtier laughed outright, "That old relic looks at least seventy!"

"Nay, I'd say eighty," a knight said, "Most likely to kick the bucket in a few weeks under Prince Zephidel's 'voracious' appetite for facts and knowledge."

Xavier's closed eyes did not open as he turned around blindly, "Excuse me, who said that?"

A brief moment of stunned silence then exploded into a flurry of laughter.

"A blind master," a young wyvern knight named Narshen choked out, "Almost as outlandish as you, Gale!"

King Desmond raised a hand for silence. After a moment's consideration, the king smirked slightly. To the surprise of everyone there, the king nodded his confirmation, "You will do perfectly. Master Xavier, you shall find the Heir in the royal courtyard in company of his sister, Princess Guinevere."

"I thank you, your majesty," Xavier bobbed humbly.

Murdock's normally calm face was troubled, "Your majesty, I beg leave to speak. The Heir suffocates under this barrage of literary words and begs leave to master the language of kings. Prince Zephidel thirsts for the wisdom to rule and the strength to do battle. Might I be allowed to…?"

"I know what you are about to say, Murdock," King Desmond boomed, "And my answer shall remain the same. As Zephidel's father, I naturally have the 'greatest' interest in the well being of my children. It is still too early for Zephidel to learn the ways of war. He shall continue to study the mechanics of literature and lore."

"Your majesty!" Murdock protested, "Prince Zephidel has already completed his coming-of-age ceremony and…"

"Silence!" The king thundered, "Who are you to presume that I have forgotten? Do your duty, Murdock, and lead Master Xavier to my son."

"Yes, your majesty…" Murdock bowed and led Xavier away. Behind him, the ringing laughter trailed behind them.

Turning through several flights of stairs and innumerous hallways, Murdock led Xavier to a beautiful palace courtyard. Even blind Xavier could hear the peals of laughter coming from a small girl and the bright chuckle from a young man. Turning the corner, Murdock saw three people secluded away in their favorite rose corner. A purple-haired lady was standing guard near the Heir and the princess. Murdock acknowledged her presence with a nod. Upon seeing Xavier, the Heir's laughter died away.

"Another tutor, Murdock?" Zephidel sighed.

Murdock bowed slightly, "Your highness, you should not despair. I'm sure his majesty is only acting in your best interest."

"I sincerely doubt that," the purple-haired woman frowned, "His majesty knows full well that…"

"Brenya!" Murdock cautioned, "You should not say these things!"

"But it's true!" Brenya protested, "Everyone knows Prince Zephidel withers at all these wisdom-sprouting, self-conceited teachers who think they possess the knowledge of the world!"

"Excuse me," Xavier coughed slightly, "I may be blind, but I'm not deaf."

"Brenya," Zephidel chided gently, "Enough is enough."

Brenya looked abashed at her prince's reprimand. "My apologies," she mumbled.

Murdock shook his head, "I am just as frustrated as you are, Brenya. But what can we do to change the king's mind?"

"Perhaps we are going in the wrong direction."

Everyone save blind Xavier and young Guinevere arose and bowed in respect when Queen Hellene entered the small Rose Castle, as Guinevere liked to call it.

"Mama!" Guinevere gleefully said as she bound over.

The queen smiled serenely as she gathered the young girl into her arms. After Eliwood and his friends' courageous defense of Zephidel, the queen had thawed out her frozen heart and welcomed Guinevere with open arms.

"Mother?" Zephidel asked.

"General Murdock," Hellene said softly, "Could you please ensure that our conversation is not overheard."

"At once, your majesty," Murdock bowed as he left.

"Master Xavier," Hellene began, "As a mother and a queen, I beg you to help my son. For the past several years, Zephidel has had nothing but old professors fling poems and flowery words at him. He is the Crown Prince of Bern, the future king of the most militant country on the face of Elibe! He cannot waste away learning these incompatible subjects!"

"Literature and prose can be excellent tools in peace, your majesty," Xavier rasped.

"This is Bern!" Brenya exploded, "What do the awesome wyvern lords of the sky and the mighty paladins of the earth need besides weapons and a foe?"

"Master Xavier…" Zephidel began, "Please…"

Xavier smiled thinly, "The king will have my head for this, but I cannot teach you, Prince Zephidel."

"And why not?" Brenya said furiously, _No one insults the Prince in my presence!_

"Because I have not come to merely teach the laws of kingship," Xavier said, "What is your ambition, Prince Zephidel? Are you content to merely govern Bern through times of peace?"

Zephidel looked Xavier straight in the face, "No. I wish to become a king of Bern whose name shall be on the tongues of every man, woman, and child in Elibe."

"Interesting," Xavier said as he held out the tome in his right hand, "Then take this, and tell me what you see."

Queen Hellene and Brenya both looked at the leather-bound book that Zephidel held in his hands. Despair lanced through Zephidel's eyes as he thought of the many pointless tomes he read in the past. That despair was banished immediately when the book was opened.

"_Manuscript of Elibe's Castles?_" Zephidel said incredulously as he flipped through the pages, "What in the gods' name…?"

"The layout of Castle Bern…" Hellene murmured.

"Look at all the pretty pictures!" Guinevere giggled.

Brenya's eyes widened, "The Sacae Schism, Isolate Ilia... This is…?"

"What do you see?" Xavier asked again.

Zephidel raised his eyes to Xavier's face, "I see Bern's royal standard flying over every town in Elibe."

Xavier opened his eyes slightly and looked into the Crown Prince's eyes, "Stand forth, Zephidel of Bern, Sacker of Cities, and Conqueror of Elibe. I have many ideas to impart to you."

Zephidel found that this was the first time he looked forward to a tutor's lecture.

Zephidel also found that those two unnaturally golden eyes didn't bother him in the slightest.

* * *

_I think I am evil. With the ending of this ridiculously long epilogue, Hammer of Terrascars is now officially finished. Thank you reading and please review if you have the time._


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